Viva Las Vegas
by Court819
Summary: What if things happened differently when the gang went to Las Vegas to stop Brenda's elopement with Stuart Carson? AU just before Season 4's "Otherwise Engaged." Various couples but will eventually focus on B/D and B/K. Please give it a chance and review
1. Today I Met The Boy I'm Gonna Marry

**Viva Las Vegas**

**Chapter 1: (Today I Met) The Boy I'm Gonna Marry**

"What do you think about this one?" Brenda Walsh stepped onto the platform in the center of the bridal salon and pivoted slightly in front of the tri-fold mirror. She adjusted the strapless bodice over her chest and smoothed a wrinkle out of the skirt. Donna Martin raised a critical eyebrow and bit her lip.

"I don't know, Bren. I think the cut is all wrong along the neckline," she proclaimed. "Kel, what do you think?" Donna paused. "Kelly?"

"Hmmm?" Kelly Taylor looked up from the bridal brochure she was flipping through. Brenda and Donna exchanged a glance.

"Brenda wants your opinion on the dress," Donna explained. Kelly tossed the booklet aside and rose from the chair she had been slumped in. Kelly looked Brenda up and down, tilting her head slightly to the right as she studied the gown.

"I don't see how it's that much different from the third one she had on," Kelly replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Donna, I know you're the fashionista here, but these dresses all look the same to me." Brenda furrowed her eyebrows and turned back to the mirror, examining her reflection thoughtfully.

"She's right, Don," Brenda agreed. "And I think I want something simpler anyway." She gathered the full skirt of the gown in her palms and stepped off the platform, shuffling back towards the fitting area.

"I can't believe you're marrying Stuart Carson," Kelly shook her head. Donna glared at her.

"Kelly, just because some of us are having relationship issues doesn't mean we have to belittle Brenda's happiness," Donna chided. Kelly sighed.

"This has nothing to do with Dylan and me," she retorted. "It's just we're still so young, and she barely knows Stuart. We're barely done with our first year in college!"

"I know enough to know I want this," Brenda called from behind the closed door.

"What else can I show you?" the heavily-perfumed sales associate appeared at Donna's side and smiled sweetly. Donna smiled back.

"I think we might be done for today, thanks."

"We've got time guys," Brenda announced as she reemerged from the fitting room. "There's really no need to rush. I want things to be perfect, and Stuart and I haven't even agreed on a date yet."

"Yeah, but this is the fun stuff," Donna clapped her hands together. "Are we doing anything else today?" Brenda shook her head.

"I don't think so. I've got a ton of stuff to do for my dad, and like I said, we've got time."

"I still can't believe you're getting married," Kelly echoed absently, running her hand along the line of a gown on a mannequin. "I figured Donna would be the first."

"Hey!"

"That's not an insult, Don," Kelly shook her head. "I mean, I guess I just meant you've had the most trauma-free relationship out of any of us. And just one relationship at that!"

"David and I have had our problems," Donna said softly. "And I'd say sex continues to be one colossal problem in the middle of our relationship."

"David loves you, Donna. Unconditionally," Brenda smiled. "We should all be so lucky."

"Do you not think Stuart loves you?" Donna looked alarmed. Brenda laughed and shook her head.

"No, I know he loves me. I just…I don't know. We're not you and David, that's all. No one is."

"Who would have thought David Silver would have become the touchstone of all things romantic?" Kelly snickered. Donna swatted her playfully.

"Come on, ladies, let's go," Brenda declared. "I think we can squeeze in a quick lunch before Jim the Slave Driver beckons me back." The three friends laughed and followed each other out the bridal salon door, bells tinkling as it swung closed behind them.


	2. Talk, Talk

_**Author's Note: **_Okay, I hope people are actually reading this and just not leaving feedback  If not, Jianna, this is for you! Not too much exciting in this chapter, sorry, but it's necessary to lay the groundwork. I gotta say, it's kind of fun to rewrite history…or at least, play Exec Producer for a bit. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

"I'm back!" Brenda threw open the door and tossed her purse onto the reception desk just outside her father's office. She placed the large white bag down more gently. Jim Walsh's head popped out, phone precariously balanced on his shoulder as he gave her a quick wave and held up one index finger. He gestured to a stack of papers on the desk and disappeared inside his office again. Brenda strode over to the desk and leafed through the pile. More filing.

"Maybe college would be better than this," she mused to herself as she pulled open the massive filing cabinet and began placing the various files in their respective alphabetical folders. She hummed to herself as she worked.

"Sorry sweetie," Jim sighed. "Some clients think I'm not only their accountant, but their therapist too. Talk, talk, talk." He smiled and crossed to the filing cabinet, kissing her on the cheek. "Did you have a nice lunch?" She nodded.

"Brought you a shrimp Caesar salad," she pointed to the white bag and lowered her voice. "Mom gave you tuna fish today. It can be our secret." Jim laughed and grabbed the bag.

"What did I ever do before you?"

"You ate tuna fish and talked to yourself," she grinned.

"I'm going to take this into my office to eat. That filing can wait a few more minutes if you want to join me."

"Sure." She followed her father and settled herself into one of the chairs facing his desk as he settled behind it and removed the Styrofoam box from the take-out bag. He swiveled his chair to reach the small refrigerator just below the window and retrieved a Diet Coke from inside.

"Stuart called about an hour ago, looking for you," he said nonchalantly as he popped open the soda can and took a sip. "I told him you had gone to lunch and would be back around 1. My guess is he'll call back."

"Thanks. I should hire _you_. I could use a personal secretary," she joked. Jim raised an eyebrow at her and took a bite of the salad.

"So, you're really getting married." Brenda groaned.

"Dad, this isn't going to be an inquisition, right? We've been over this."

"I know, Brenda, but it's only been a few weeks since Mr. Carson and I even introduced the two of you. How well can you possibly know someone after just several dates?"

"Your parents were engaged and married after four months, and they were together for 47 years before Grandpa passed away," she pointed out, reaching across the desk and grabbing a shrimp from atop the salad. In spite of her own lunch, her stomach was still grumbling.

"Brenda, that was a different time. My father was getting ready to go off to war. Most couples had whirlwind courtships in those days. Your generation has the luxury to get to really know someone before the whole settling down thing."

"Just because it's a luxury doesn't mean it's a necessity," she argued. She felt a small spark of anger flicker within. First Kelly, now her dad. Did no one think she could possibly know what was best for herself?

"Brenda, I just don't want you making a huge mistake," he said gently. "Is it so wrong for your old dad to be worried about you?" She met his eyes and saw the genuine concern there and softened immediately.

"I know, Dad, but I wish people would have more faith in me. Stuart and I are engaged. We're not getting married tomorrow. There's plenty of time, you'll see." The shrill ringing of the telephone cut through their conversation. Brenda swung the phone around and glanced for the blinking light. She punched the button for Line 3 and cleared her throat. "Jim Walsh's office."

"Funny, you don't sound anything like Jim Walsh." Brenda smiled.

"Hi Stuart. Let me take this in the reception area." She pushed the hold button and placed the receiver down. "Enjoy your lunch Dad." She winked and quickly walked out of her father's office, pulling the door closed behind her. She raced to the reception desk and pressed Line 3 once more. "Hi," she sighed. "Were your ears burning?"

"Oh, you were talking about me, were you?" Stuart's tone was playful, and Brenda smiled to herself.

"You're a popular topic of conversation among the people in my life right now," she reported, settling down in the chair and twirling the phone cord around her pinkie finger.

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," he chuckled.

"Actually, it's probably neither. I'm just getting a lot of the "you're too young for marriage-slash-you barely know Stuart" talk from my parents and my friends."

"Well _my _parents couldn't be happier for us," he replied, stressing the "my" emphatically. "In fact, they'd like us to join them for dinner this evening. I think my mom is clawing at the bit to begin planning our wedding."

"Dinner would be great," she answered. One of the other lines began ringing, a sharp, insistent trill. "Stuart, I've got to answer a phone call. Can you hold on again?"

"I could," he teased. "But I'll tell you what. I know you have work to do at your dad's. I'll just see you tonight, okay? Be by about six to pick you up? We can spend a few minutes together before we meet my parents at the restaurant. Reservation's at 7."

"I see you weren't planning on taking no for an answer," she laughed. "I'll see you at 6."

"I love you Brenda," was the last thing she heard as she ended the call and answered Line 2.

***

"You're late," Brandon sighed, looking up from the newspaper he was browsing as D'Shawn settled his large frame into the chair across from Brandon's. D'Shawn heaved a gym bag to the floor next to the table and shrugged.

"Time is money, Walsh. I like you, so I'm trying to give you a few minutes. I gotta be somewhere at 4." Brandon glanced down at his watch and snorted.

"It's twenty to 4 right now, D'Shawn."

"Then I guess you'd better cram everything you know about that Skinner dude into fifteen minutes," D'Shawn winked. "It'll take me five to get over to the gym."

"I don't know why you think your time is more important than mine," Brandon began, folding the newspaper and tossing it to the table in frustration. "You're a nice guy, D'Shawn, but I'm not going to waste my days waiting around for you when I'm not the one failing Randall's class. You want to warm the bench with your academic ineligibility in a few weeks when the season starts, be my guest." He took a swig from the now-cooled coffee he had purchased nearly a half-hour earlier and started to rise from his chair.

"I hope you're getting up because you two have just completed a successful tutoring session." Brandon felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and came face to face with Professor Randall. Brandon tried to contain his reaction as he noticed Lucinda Nicholson was standing beside Randall.

"We've gotten a lot done, Professor," D'Shawn winked at Brandon again. Brandon shot D'Shawn a warning glance, but the basketball player just flashed another smile.

"Cory, aren't you going to introduce me to these gentlemen?" Lucinda pursed her lips and gave Brandon a private smile.

"Of course," Professor Randall cleared his throat. "This is D'Shawn Hardell, one of our great hopes for a winning basketball season. And this," he gestured to Brandon, who shifted uncomfortably under Lucinda's gaze, "is Brandon Walsh. He's in my Soc 101 class, and he's been kind enough to agree to tutor D'Shawn so he can remain eligible."

"Pleasure," Lucinda smiled, extending her arm to shake D'Shawn's hand first, then turning her attention to Brandon. He felt her fingers clutch at his a little tighter than would be normal. "Cory has told me so much about you. Both of you." Brandon cleared his throat and pulled his fingers back, feeling Lucinda's gaze still on his. Luckily for him, D'Shawn chose that moment to end the "tutoring session." The lanky basketball player stood and slung his gym bag over one shoulder.

"Thanks man," he grinned, clapping Brandon on the back. "I feel good about what we talked about."

"You'll be ready for the quiz Tuesday, D'Shawn?" Professor Randall raised an eyebrow, removing his glasses and polishing them on his shirt. Brandon raised his own eyebrow and exchanged an amused glance with D'Shawn.

"Guess you'll see Tuesday," he winked. "The gym calls. Coming to the game tomorrow night, Brandon?"

"If I can't think of something better to do with my Saturday night, maybe," he replied. D'Shawn laughed and gave a little wave as he made his way through the crowded commons.

"Don't tell me a nice young guy like you would spend a Saturday night alone?" Lucinda teased. Brandon narrowed his eyes. This woman was _not_ attempting to flirt with him right in front of her husband. Who just happened to be _his_ professor. Who held a good sized chunk of his first-term GPA in his power. He was taken aback by her, yet, strangely fascinated at the same time.

Before Brandon could formulate a good enough reply, Professor Randall spoke up, taking his wife by the hand. "Come on Lucinda. Our dinner reservation is at 6, and you know Casa del Carmen doesn't hold tables one minute past your time. Let's let Brandon get back to studying."

"It was nice to meet you, Brandon," she smiled coyly.

"Likewise, Mrs. Randall," he replied, waiting for her reaction.

"Nicholson. It's Professor Nicholson," she corrected him, a glint in her eye.

"Never could get her to take my name, not for lack of trying," Professor Randall interjected. "That's a Women's Studies professor for you. Good night Brandon. See you Tuesday."

"Night." Brandon watched the two of them retreat from the commons, noticing Lucinda was not one to clutch at her husband's hand or show any sign of affection to him in the watchful eyes of the student center. Yet she blatantly teased him in front of D'Shawn and her husband. Brandon sat back in his chair and stared blankly at the sociology text, trying to redirect his thoughts from the temptress who had inserted herself in his life at precisely the worst possible time.

Lucinda Nicholson was not going to be good news. He could feel it.


	3. Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

**Chapter 3: Scenes from an Italian Restaurant**

The sharp shriek of seagulls interrupted the gentle crashing of waves and broke Kelly's concentration. She sighed and placed her psychology textbook on the little table next to her chaise lounge. She shielded her eyes from the setting sun as she watched the golden rays reflecting off the water. Glancing at her watch, she was dismayed to see it was already quarter to six. Daylight savings had ended last week, and she was mildly depressed by the fact it was getting darker so much early. Fall, as much as it could be called that, was in the air.

Kelly had never liked this time of year when she was younger Thanksgiving was a holiday for kids who had nice, happy families, and moms who could cook a nice turkey dinner. Most of her Thanksgiving memories were of Chinese takeout or pizza with a babysitter. She had only begun to like fall and the holidays again when she had met Brenda Walsh sophomore year of high school.

Brenda had the kind of family most kids in Beverly Hills, though they'd never outwardly admit it, could only dream of. Two parents who, imagine that, actually loved and respected each other and showed genuine affection and concern about their children. Kelly always had to fight the urge to smack Brenda when she complained about Jim and Cindy Walsh's rules. She could only imagine how different her life would have been if her own mother had shown any concern for what Kelly was doing. Half the time, she was the responsible one. Jackie Silver had never been one for parenting until Kelly's younger sister had come along, quite by accident.

The Walshes had always invited their children's friends to spend Thanksgiving dinner with them, and Kelly figured this year would be no different. College had done little to split their core group apart; if anything, most of them had become even closer. With the exception of the fact Brenda had dove headfirst into a relationship with Stuart Carson and was now planning a wedding, things were par for the course.

Including her relationship, if it could even be called that, with Dylan. They had recently agreed to see other people, but she wasn't sure if Dylan was doing much beyond spending half his day at the shooting range. Having recently been carjacked, Dylan had taken self-defense to the extreme.

"Tell me you're not studying on a glorious Friday evening," a voice interrupted her thoughts. Kelly turned to the steps of the deck and found John Sears lingering against the rail, a grin plastered on his face. Kelly smiled wanly.

"Hey John."

"I called about a half hour ago, no one answered. I was heading this way anyway, so I figured I'd swing by in hopes of finding you here. Tonight's my lucky night," he smiled broadly, crossing the deck and settling at the edge of the lounge Kelly was sitting on. "So join me for dinner." It didn't sound like a request, Kelly noted. It was sort of more of an order.

Kelly was flattered by the attention John had been showering her with recently, and the "glass half-full" part of her wanted to believe he had changed his ways since high school, but something remained that she just couldn't put her finger on. She knew she had to remain on alert around John Sears at all times. The guy had made her early high school years a living hell, and she knew he was attracted to her, but could easily have any girl on campus who didn't know his modus operandi.

It didn't help that Dylan hated John either. Yes, they had split up for the moment, and yes, they had both agreed to see other people, but a nagging voice inside Kelly's head told her it was wrong to see other people who your ex-boyfriend loathed with a passion.

"I don't know John," she began, pushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. "I have a midterm on Monday and I've been really tired lately."

"Kelly, you know me well enough to know I don't take no for an answer," he grinned. Kelly furrowed her brow and took a deep breath.

"Wrong thing to say given our history, John," she retorted, giving him a steely glare, her body shivering as she remembered all too well the persuading and prodding John, the "big man on campus" had used to get her, a lowly freshman, to lower her guard and sleep with him. One too many times.

"Kelly, that's not what I meant," he stuttered, his tanned complexion flushing the slightest shade of red. Kelly wasn't used to seeing John Sears flustered. "What I meant was, I mean, I really just want to take you to dinner. A nice dinner and some conversation." She bit her lip and met his pleading eyes. "Please?" She sighed and swung her legs over the chaise to rise from the lounger.

"I'll go change."

***

"It's Carson, party of four," Stuart hedged impatiently. "And I believe two of the parties have arrived already." The twig-thin hostess looked back down at the ledger and scanned over the page.

"I don't see anything Mr. Carson," she stammered. "I'll check with the manager."

"That would be a good idea," he snapped. The red-faced girl stumbled away from the hostess podium in search of the manger, and Brenda shifted uncomfortably as Stuart drummed his fingers against the polished wood. "My parents have been coming to this restaurant for thirty years," he complained. "I can't see how they'd _lose_ a reservation. Especially ours!" Brenda placed a hand on Stuart's forearm.

"It'll be okay, Stuart," she smiled, trying to take his mind off the misunderstanding.

"Stuart!" Brenda was relieved to see Mr. Carson crossing the dining room to the front of the restaurant. "We were wondering what had happened to you!" He leaned in to kiss Brenda's cheek. "Hello, Brenda."

"Hi, Mr. Carson."

"Well, thank God," Stuart sighed, placing a hand on the small of Brenda's back and guiding her to follow his father to their table. "The stupid bitch was probably looking at the wrong day."

"Stuart, give the girl a break," Brenda warned mildly. "Everyone makes mistakes." Stuart smiled smoothly.

"And that's why she's a hostess and probably won't aspire to be much more in life. Let's just forget about it and enjoy our evening, shall we?" He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her again. "Hello, Mother, don't get up." He leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek as they approached the table where Mrs. Carson was already seated.

"Oh, good, Lawrence, you found them," she smiled. "Hello, Brenda, dear."

"Hi Mrs. Carson." She slid into the chair that Stuart had pulled out for her.

"Would you just call us Lawrence and Vivian, already," Mrs. Carson exclaimed, taking a long sip from what Brenda deduced was a martini.

"Or she could just call us Mom and Dad," Mr. Carson winked at her, resettling in his own seat across from her. Brenda smiled and placed her napkin in her lap immediately, reaching for the menu resting across the plate in front of her. She vaguely listened as Stuart and his father made small talk, scanning the menu so she'd be ready to order when the waiter arrived. She'd already made a mental note that Mr. Carson wasn't fond of indecisive diners; she had witnessed his impatience at a business lunch on which she had tagged along with her father.

"Brenda?"

"Hmm?" She looked up and found all three Carsons staring at her. An older looking gentleman was standing beside the table, and Brenda deduced he must be the waiter, and everyone was waiting for her.

"Something to drink, Bren?" Stuart nodded towards the waiter, giving her a slight smile.

"Oh…oh…I'll just stick with water," she gestured to the glass already to the right of her plate and smiled politely at the waiter.

"Are you ready to place an order?" the waiter asked. As Mr. Carson began grilling the waiter about one of the specials, Stuart leaned over and whispered, "You know, if you had wanted a drink, I could have ordered you some wine or a cocktail."

"I'm good, thanks," she replied, cringing as she remembered that here she was, engaged to be married, and she was still nearly two years away from legal drinking age.

Mr. Carson finally decided on his meal and his salad, and to her surprise, Stuart piped up and ordered next. When he was finished, he turned to her and gave her a look that indicated she was to order next.

"Mrs. Carson, go ahead," Brenda offered, "I need to make a split-second decision, I'm afraid, and every second will help." She smiled at her future mother-in-law, hoping she found the gesture sincere. Not a reaction in the slightest. After Mrs. Carson had completed her order, Brenda settled on her salad and some kind of pasta dish with shrimp and tomatoes that she wished she had pronounced better, judging by the waiter's tight smile.

"So, Stuart, Brenda, now that the meal is out of the way, let's talk details," Mrs. Carson smiled brightly. "I talked with Colette, and she was kind enough to give us first dibs at the club for a host of weekends this May, June or July, so I hope you've given your date some consideration. I don't want to keep her waiting, being that she's kind enough to play guard dog with the club calendar."

"Who's Colette?" Brenda asked, exchanging a glance with Stuart, whose expression seemed to suggest he knew this Colette character.

"She's the social director at the country club," Stuart explained, taking a sip of his scotch. "And a good friend of Mother's."

"Well, that's really nice of her," Brenda began, "but I didn't think we had even discussed locations yet."

"There's nothing to discuss, really," Stuart replied matter-of-factly. "Dad's country club is one of the top facilities in terms of catered events in all of California. It's a no-brainer that they'd do a wonderful job with a wedding. I figured you'd be happy that it'd be one less detail to haggle over."

"I didn't know we were on a time-table," she returned. "I mean, I'm working for my father now, but I haven't completely ruled out going back to college, or trying my hand at something else…"

"Oh, dear, when you and Stuart are married, you won't need any of that," Mrs. Carson chuckled, waving a bejeweled hand in the air while the other clutched at her martini. "You'll be living the life of the social scene. Planning benefits, having lunch at the club, you know. That's what the wives of Carsons do," she explained smoothly. Brenda raised an eyebrow at Stuart, who conveniently became very interested in an invisible spot on his tie. She reached under the table and squeezed his knee, hard, drawing his attention back to her. She beckoned him silently with her eyes, and Stuart leaned over.

"I'm not a socialite," Brenda hissed under her breath to him.

"We can talk. Just let her have her fun," was his reply.

"What's wrong, Stuart?" Mr. Carson boomed.

"Nothing, Dad, nothing at all," he winked at Brenda. She sighed inwardly and thanked the restaurant gods for the arrival of their salads at that precise moment.

Somehow, she didn't think the nice long engagement she was planning was in the cards.

It was going to be a long evening.

***

"Well, that was certainly one of the, uh, most interesting dinners I've ever had," Kelly mused as John opened the car door for her after he had parked in the lot of her apartment complex.

"What, you've never had a waiter faint while taking your order before?" John laughed. "Happens to me all the time." He reached for her hand, and she rose from the car.

"No, but the eggplant-cum-veal parmesan switcheroo was a little too bizarre for me. What restaurant thinks you're not going to know the difference?"

"I didn't know you were a vegetarian," John replied. "But I think generally, Italian restaurants are pretty accommodating." Kelly shook her head.

"I haven't gone fully vegetarian, that wasn't the issue. It's something I've been thinking about, yeah, but I was more offended by the fact they tried to serve me something that I didn't order. You didn't find that odd?"

"I guess I was still bit floored by the fainting waiter." Kelly groaned.

"That was an awful pun," she teased.

"Guilty as charged," he grinned. He followed her up the back stairs of the building that led to her apartment deck. Kelly fumbled in her purse for her keys. Her fingers closed over them, and she slid them out, readying to call it a night.

"Thanks for a nice evening, John," she smiled, turning to face him. He took a step towards her, running his index finger along her jaw line.

"I didn't think our evening was over," he whispered, lowering his head towards hers. She found herself giving in to his kiss, in spite of the reservations she still harbored about getting involved with John. The past few weeks without Dylan and casually seeing John had been a blur, and she wasn't ready to commit to anything, without Dylan or with John. But for the moment, she was enjoying John's embrace. He did know how to kiss, she remembered, and found he was even better now than he had been in high school. One of his hands slid around her waist, pressing her against him tighter, and Kelly responded by locking her hands at the nape of his neck, gently raking her fingers through his hair.

"Let's go inside," he murmured in between kisses, his lips wandering to the curve of her neck.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she replied softly. "My roommates are probably already asleep, and I didn't tell either one that I was having company." It sounded like a plausible excuse, she hoped.

"C'mon Kelly. You guys are all adults now. I hardly think Donna and what's his name will care if you have a guest spend the night." Kelly stepped back quickly and caught her breath.

"His name's David and he's my brother," she snapped. "And who said anything about spending the night? Getting a bit ahead of you, John." John ran his hand through his hair and spun around in frustration.

"Dimmit, Kelly, stop being such a tease. You like me, I like you. What is your problem?"

"My problem? I don't have a problem, John." She turned and slid her key swiftly into the lock, twisting to the right. "I thought we were taking our time getting to know each other all over, forgetting the past. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. And where does it get me? I'm not going to sleep with you until I'm good and ready. Which at this rate, you'll be waiting for hell to freeze over." She placed a hand on the door, but didn't push it open yet. She turned back to face him once more. "I knew you hadn't changed. My friends warned me. Hell, I wanted to believe you changed."

"You haven't," he shot back. "You're still a slut, and you always will be." His words spat venom, but Kelly straightened her back and jutted her chin out.

"Well, John, if I really was such a slut, you'd be coming inside with me, now, wouldn't you? Thanks for dinner." And with that, she slipped inside her apartment, slamming the door. She flicked off the deck light, leaving John Sears standing in the inky night, contemplating what might have been.


	4. Got My Mind Set on You

_**Author's Note**_: I'm really trying to follow the "feel" of the show here, with each chapter acting somewhat like the parts of an episode, and the end of a chapter acting as a commercial break…it's just that by the time I'm done, it will have been a ten-hour episode, give or take! I'm laying the groundwork mostly in these early chapters, putting my spin on what would be happening leading up to the elopement to Vegas. I'm trying to get everyone involved within the next few chapters, so bear with me. I'm really hoping some of you who have signed up for alerts on this story will start leaving some feedback. I'm flattered you care enough to want to know when it's updated, but it's a bit disheartening when there is so little reviewing each new chapter. I'd never resort to holding a chapter hostage, but I'm not below begging. Ha. Thanks Jianna and Nikky for your positive comments. ~Court

P.S., Yes, all my chapter titles are inspired by song titles. I have no creativity when it comes to titles and chapters. This chapter's muse was the late great George Harrison.

**Chapter 4: Got My Mind Set on You**

"Well that evening was not what I expected," Brenda exhaled as she and Stuart walked up the path to the Walshes' front door. Stuart squeezed her hand.

"I know, a three-hour dinner with my parents wasn't really how I envisioned the evening turning out either."

"Dinner was fine. I was referring to when your parents dragged us back to your house for coffee and it turned into two more hours with a wedding planner! Stuart, what person in their right mind has a wedding planner come to their house at 9 o'clock at night? What was your mother thinking?" They reached the door, and Stuart took Brenda's other hand in his, swinging their arms ever so gently as he smiled ruefully down at her.

"She probably wasn't thinking, Bren. You know my mom by now. Social events are her coup de grace. What more can she aspire to than a wedding?" Brenda rolled her eyes, and Stuart reached up with his left hand and cupped her cheek. "She doesn't have a daughter. This is as close to wedding nirvana as she's gonna get."

"My mom does have a daughter, and you think she's going to be too happy if she has no part of the whole planning process?" Brenda replied tightly.

"I appreciate you humoring her tonight. You were really great with the planner, no matter how ridiculous she got," he smiled again, sliding his hand around to the nape of her neck. "I'm constantly reminded why I've fallen so hard for you, Brenda Walsh," he murmured, his lips descending towards hers. She leaned up into his kiss, responding eagerly. He deepened the embrace, and Brenda found herself moaning softly as his tongue probed her mouth.

"God, I wish there was a way for us to be alone tonight," he groaned as they broke apart for air. "You sure your parents would notice if I snuck out before dawn?" Brenda laughed.

"You don't know my parents very well. Fifty bucks says they're sitting right inside that door, at the kitchen table. My dad's got a bowl of ice cream in front of him, probably Rocky Road. Mom's got a dog-eared copy of Anna Karenina open, pretending she hasn't read it a hundred times since Brandon and I both started dating and staying out later when we were 15."

"Well, this I've got to see," he teased. "Besides, I could go for a bowl of ice cream myself. I'm not ready to say good-night to you yet." Brenda smirked and twisted the door knob, finding it unlocked as it always was when she was on a date. She ushered Stuart inside and put a finger to her lips, leading him towards the kitchen. Giving Stuart a knowing smile, she entered the kitchen and feigned surprise at the sight.

"Mom, Dad, I had no idea you'd still be up!"

"Brenda, hi," Cindy Walsh smiled, the guilty look in her eyes evident to only her daughter. "Hello, Stuart," she added warmly. Stuart smiled back.

"Hi Mrs. Walsh. Evening Mr. Walsh," he nodded. Jim Walsh swallowed the mouthful of ice cream and set his spoon to rest inside the edge of the bowl.

"Hi Stuart. How was dinner kids?" Brenda and Stuart exchanged a knowing look.

"Interesting," Brenda answered. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning." She kissed her father's head. "Stuart just wanted to say hello. I'm going to walk him back out to his car." She raised an eyebrow at him before he could protest any further.

"Pleasure to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Walsh. Good night," Stuart called as Brenda led him back towards the front door. "I thought I was getting some ice cream," he pouted playfully.

"You can settle for this," she replied as soon as they were outside the front door once more, guiding his head down to meet hers in a heated kiss.

"Wow," Stuart whispered when she released her hold on him.

"You owe me fifty bucks," she teased, running her fingers through the hair just above his temples. "But I'll accept most major credit cards too."

"Fifty bucks is a little steep for a meager lad like meself," he joked. "How bout I just take you to dinner tomorrow, just you and me?"

"It's a date," she smiled. "Now as much as I'd like to continue this, I've got to get to bed. My dad needs me to run some errands tomorrow morning, so sleep would be good."

"Tomorrow is Saturday!" he exclaimed. "That man's a slave-driver!"

"And I'm a starving out-of-college kid living rent-free. Now be on your way," she teased. "Oh, and for the record, if _you_ had your own place, we could continue this party any time we wanted."

"See, that's funny. Rent-free goes both ways." He caught her off-guard and pulled her tightly to him. "But if ever there was another reason why getting married sooner than later would be good, there it is. We can just get a place together."

"We can do that without getting married, Stuart," she pointed out. Stuart's eyes widened.

"Are you saying we should move in together?"

"No!" she replied quickly. "No, I mean, well, it's just two people can live together without being married. I'm good with us looking for a place closer to the wedding." She sighed. "We really do need to decide on a date, don't we?" Stuart kissed her cheek.

"Tomorrow night at dinner. We'll pick a date." He stepped back, took her hand and pressed his lips to it gently. "Good night, ."

"Night, Stuart," she murmured, watching him head towards the driveway. She leaned against the front door, listening as Stuart revved the car's engine and peeled out of the driveway. The taillights disappeared down the road, and Brenda sighed, staring up at the murky night sky, clouds obscuring the moon and most of the stars. Her heart was pounding, she noticed, and she was puzzled as to why. She also wondered why, when she had just said goodnight to her future husband, she had suddenly found herself thinking of one Dylan McKay.

***

"Hey, where were you?" Kelly slumped against the inside of the apartment door and was greeted by Donna, who was sitting on the couch with a highlighter in one hand and a text book open on her lap. Kelly groaned and tossed her purse onto the little table just to the left of the door.

"If I tell you, promise not to chastise me?" Donna closed the book and raised an eyebrow at Kelly.

"You went out with John Sears tonight didn't you?"

"Nothing gets past you Donna," she replied, sinking into the chair opposite the couch. Donna sighed and shook her head.

"Kel, I thought you had learned your lesson in high school. John Sears is a class-A jerk." Kelly threw her head back against the chair and closed her eyes.

"I know, Donna, I know. But time does change people, and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately, time didn't change John Sears one bit. He's still the same scumbag he's always been." Kelly cringed as she heard the nasty things he called her reverberating through her head.

"Oh, what happened?" Donna asked softly.

"He hinted not-so-subtly that he thought I was going to sleep with him tonight. And when I told him I wasn't, he called me a tease and a slut and showed his true colors. I should have listened to you Don," she sighed wistfully.

"You know what I think?"

"Enlighten me," Kelly laughed. "How is it that someone who's had one steady boyfriend in her life has the most insight into relationships?" Donna blushed.

"Stop, Kel, I'm not an expert or anything. But I think you were quick to give John Sears the benefit of the doubt because you were trying to prove something to Dylan." Kelly frowned and chewed on her bottom lip.

"Hardly," she sniffed. "Dylan and I agreed to see other people. I'm not spending my days trying to make him jealous."

"No, I didn't mean that, actually," Donna interjected. "I meant, you guys might have agreed to see other people, but it's no fun if you're the one who's not seeing another person."

"I'm not following you, Donna." Donna leaned forward.

"You didn't want Dylan to start seeing someone else before you did." Kelly sighed and examined a fingernail, unwilling to meet Donna's eyes. If she had, her best friend would have seen right through her and known just how right on she was. "Kelly, it's okay. You're not a bad person for feeling that way. I think, God forbid, if anything ever happened between David and me, I'd die if he found someone else before I did." She reached across and grabbed Kelly's hand. "Hey, it was only John Sears that you used. And he probably deserves it. Think how many poor girls have been bedded and dumped by that tool," she giggled. Kelly laughed and hopped across to settle next to Donna on the couch.

"How'd we get so lucky to find each other as friends?"

"I think it was that fluke that put our lockers next to each other in sixth grade and allowed us to discover we both had posters of Kirk Cameron inside on our locker doors," Donna replied. "And we've never looked back."

"And we never will," Kelly promised, hugging Donna tightly. "Thanks, Don. You know, you should be the psych major," she teased.

"Maybe I should, this freshman design seminar is kicking my ass, and it's not even for credit," she gestured to the book on the side table. "It's going to be a long four years."

"Well, I think I'm going to go to my room and read for a bit before I go to bed. You staying up to wait for David?" Donna shook her head.

"He's doing the overnight shift tonight. It's a pretty big vote of confidence for a newbie deejay. It's Friday night, after all, and lots of people tune in." She glanced at the clock. "I'll probably try to get through this chapter and then call it a night."

"11 o'clock on a Friday night and here we are," Kelly joked. "Wild college girls we are, huh?'

"We have that Alpha-KEG pledge mixer next weekend, remember? Might as well enjoy a quiet Friday night while we can."

"Fair point. Night Don," she called as she walked down the hall to her room. She closed the door quietly and flicked on the light, bathing the room in a muted glow of gold as she crossed to the window and cracked it open a bit. She could hear the surf gently crashing onto the shore, and the sound was comforting. She kicked off her heels and pulled her dress over her head in one swift motion, reaching for the pajamas she had left in a pile at the foot of her bed. She stared absently out the window as her fingers pushed each button through the holes on the night shirt.

Throwing back the sheets, she slipped under the covers and grabbed for the paperback book on her night stand. Before she could even open the novel, she found her thoughts drifting to Dylan McKay. She cursed herself silently for thinking of him, but she couldn't help but wonder what he was doing on his Friday evening. Or who he was doing, she thought bitterly, a surge of jealousy coursing through her veins. She knew she had no right to feel anything of the sort when she herself had been out with another guy, if John Sears could be considered more human than animal. But a little voice nagged at her, tormenting her with the notion that Dylan wasn't thinking of her with the same jealous thoughts.

Kelly honestly wasn't even sure where she wanted things to go from here. She had always thought she loved Dylan, but she was constantly questioning herself when they were together. They spent more time and energy fighting than being happy, and although Kelly could never deny that their chemistry was good and sex with Dylan was amazing, she knew there was more to a successful relationship than a physical bond.

Money had changed him too, she noted, and the recent carjacking had reintroduced her to a side of Dylan she didn't like very much. She had seen enough of the moody, brooding, penchant-for-self-defense Dylan after his father had been killed in that car bombing. Dylan's idea of a romantic afternoon in recent weeks had been visiting a shooting range. Kelly couldn't so much as see another person handle a gun and she would find herself shuddering.

And yet, she wasn't sure how she would feel if Dylan began seeing someone else, anyone else. She was secretly happy that Brenda wasn't single and available at the moment; while selfishly, she knew she had no right to tell anyone else who they could or couldn't date, the idea of Dylan and Brenda had long nagged at her soul. There was a tiny part of Kelly that believed Dylan and Brenda were meant to be together, and so now, especially when she herself was questioning her own future with or without Dylan, it would have been doubly confusing to deal with if the issue of Brenda had been looming as well.

She sighed and tossed the book back on the night stand, knowing her mind was racing too fast and furious tonight to concentrate on any thriller John Grisham had so carefully plotted. She said a silent prayer and thank you to Stuart Carson for so completely sweeping Brenda off her feet and nestled herself against the pillow, waiting for the inevitable restless sleep to overcome her.


	5. Bad Moon Rising

**Chapter 5: Bad Moon Rising**

"Back so soon from your evening with young Stuart Carson?" Brenda looked up, toothbrush in hand to see her brother standing in the doorway of the bathroom they shared. She smirked at him and spit the toothpaste into the sink, taking a quick swig of water to rinse out her mouth. "I guess when you both live with your parents, that does tend to put a crimp on anything too romantic, huh?" Brenda crossed her arms and leaned against the sink. She knew he was having fun at her expense, but she wasn't really in the mood.

"Busy Friday night, Brandon?" she shot back. "I bet watching the Kings game on TV with dad was just thrilling." Brandon pursed his lips, and Brenda could almost see the gears turning as he tried to work up an appropriate comeback. Feeling triumphant when she was met with only silence, she flashed him a knowing smile and turned towards her own room. Brandon followed her. "Did you want something?" she asked, pulling back the comforter on her bed and tossing two pillows aside.

"What, a guy can't come to say goodnight to his sister?"

"It's half past eleven Brandon, not exactly prime-time for sibling bonding," she pointed out. Brandon sat down at the foot of her bed and stared up at her. Brenda sank down to the bed and met her brother's gaze. "What's up Brandon?" He shifted and tented his fingers together, and Brenda could tell that he wasn't comfortable with whatever it was he was about to say.

"Look, Bren, I'm your brother, and I love you, so you have to know that what I'm about to say comes from good intentions," he began. Brenda rolled her eyes.

"I'm not looking for a lecture, Brandon. Say whatever it is you need to say. I've got to go into Dad's office tomorrow morning for a few hours to photocopy some contracts."

"How well do you really know Stuart Carson?" Brandon blurted out. Brenda groaned and lay back against the pillows.

"Brandon, I'm a big girl. I think I can take care of myself," she retorted.

"Just hear me out," he replied. "And answer me: how well do you know Stuart Carson?"

"Well enough to know I'm going to marry him!" she exhaled. "This is really not a conversation I want to be having right now. I'm tired."

"I just thought you should know that I've heard some things, and I don't like what I've heard. I said it before, you're my sister, I love you, and I have a right to be concerned when you're capriciously diving into marriage with a guy who I don't think you know the way you should know someone you're gonna marry."

"What brought this on?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Brandon sighed and looked away.

"I was talking to Dylan earlier today and…"

"That doesn't surprise me," she interrupted. "But, newsflash, Brandon! Dylan has no business sticking himself in my love life anymore. He lost the right to have any concern about me when he chose Kelly over me," she spat. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to take anything he says about Stuart seriously."

"Dylan and Kelly aren't really seeing each other right now," Brandon added quietly. Brenda shook her head knowingly.

"That makes it even worse!" she shrieked. "It's like every time he and Kelly break up, which I swear is a regular occurrence anymore, he thinks it's okay for him to sniff around me, but then oh, he and Kelly get back together and I'm no longer of concern to him."

"Bren, calm down. He never said anything about you. He merely told me some stuff about Stuart from when they knew each other years ago," Brandon said. "And that stuff concerned me, so I'm talking to you, I thought, as mature adults and siblings who care about each other's well-being." Brenda picked up a brush from her night table and gave her hair several swipes.

"I appreciate your brotherly concern," she replied. "But if Dylan McKay has such awful things to say about my fiancé, he can tell me them to my face." She paused. "And you can tell him I said that." Brandon sighed and stood. There was no arguing with Brenda when it came to anything relating to Dylan.

"Okay," he said simply, retreating towards the bathroom door. "But I hope for your sake you'll actually take me seriously and have a little chat with Dylan. In spite of what you think, he just wants what's best for you."

"Good night, Brandon," she answered crisply. He sighed again and pulled the door closed behind him as he padded through the bathroom to his own room. Frustrated that he had gotten nowhere with his stubborn sister, he flicked on the television and punched in the numbers for ESPN, hoping to burn off some of his annoyance with some Sportscenter highlights.

It didn't work. Brandon found his mind racing, going over and over the things Dylan had told him about the man his sister had agreed to marry. Stuart, according to Dylan, was your classic spoiled rotten rich kid. No surprise there, Beverly Hills was crawling with them. His own best friend, Steve Sanders, had to find himself firmly immersed in that category as well. But whereas Steve's spoiled nature and money never went beyond some minor boorish behavior and escapades that only Steve could manage, Stuart's wealth had afforded him some unsavory habits that Dylan was all-too-willing to spill about.

According to Dylan, Stuart had not only had a healthy love for marijuana, but he had more than once dabbled in the harder drug scene, using cocaine and ecstasy on a regular basis in his high school years. He had even dealt ecstasy for a short period of time, Dylan shared, mostly to the other kids at his parents' tony country club. Dylan claimed Stuart had even been arrested for dealing, but Mr. Carson's wallet and powers of persuasion had made the charges disappear before most in the Beverly Hills social scene could even learn the younger Carson had spent a night in jail.

Brandon knew time could change people, and he knew kids like Dylan and Steve and Stuart often did things they would later regret as adults, but there was just something about Stuart that refused to let him give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Ever since he had first met Stuart Carson, there was something unsettling about him, something Brandon wasn't sure he liked. He always got the impression Stuart thought the Walshes were beneath him, and the things Stuart said in their company bordered on patronizing.

Brenda did make a fair point about Dylan, Brandon reluctantly admitted to himself. It had wounded Brenda very deeply when Dylan had secretly began seeing Kelly Taylor while Brenda had been away in Paris the summer before senior year. And in spite of Dylan choosing Kelly over Brenda, there seemed be a lingering connection that neither Brenda nor Dylan could deny.

Brandon knew Brenda held Kelly more responsible for the betrayal than she placed blame on Dylan; Brandon actually felt quite the opposite. He had long harbored a quiet sympathy for Brenda's friend, and he felt the circumstances of that summer, her mom remarried, dealing with a new stepbrother and an infant in her house, and an ill-fated fling with that older construction worker, had had an emotionally-draining effect on Kelly. Brandon himself thought Dylan had capitalized on his girlfriend being away and Kelly's own vulnerability and loneliness to act on feelings he had probably had long before he knew Brenda. It didn't make what had happened right, and Kelly could have stopped the clandestine romance at any time, yes, but Brandon just couldn't blame her for wanting someone to show her attention at that time. Even if it had been Brenda's boyfriend.

He mused to himself at the fact that he occasionally found himself thinking about Kelly Taylor. He smiled as he remembered the first time he had seen her when he first moved to Beverly Hills. She had been the exact vision he had had of the typical California princess he had imagined when he knew his family was moving west: the long, perfectly styled blonde hair, the immaculately applied makeup, the most stylish clothes. He had been oddly attracted and repelled at the same time. She was beautiful, there had been no denying that, but she had also given off a "look-but-don't touch" vibe. He had been intrigued by this girl from afar, but any thought he had given to pursuing her disappeared when two things happened. His friendship with Steve Sanders, and Brenda's eventual bonding with Kelly had shown Brandon more angles to Kelly Taylor, and she quickly became off-limits, at least in Brandon's logic. She had been interested in him initially, running his student council campaign and persuading him to be her date for the sophomore spring fling.

It had flattered Brandon that a girl of Kelly's caliber had shown any interest in him. He was surprised that now, over three years later, he could still remember the feel of her lips against his when they had kissed on the dance floor. He had kissed a lot of girls; Kelly certainly ranked near the top of the list. It had freaked him out then, being that Kelly spent most of her days at the Walsh house, and he had begun to see her as another member of the family. He cringed, recalling he had told her, after he broke that kiss, that she felt like another sister. Kelly had laughed gently, but Brandon had seen the hurt in her eyes. Fortunately, it hadn't caused any lasting awkwardness between them, and Brandon was relieved that he could count Kelly among his closest friends.

Realizing he had been thinking about Kelly for the better part of a half-hour, he sighed and shut off the television, pounding at the pillow to soften it before laying his head down. His thoughts turned to Lucinda Nicholson, the woman he had met at the gym just a week ago. The woman who had flirted shamelessly with him, piquing Brandon's curiosity and planting herself firmly on his radar. The woman who, oh yeah, happened to be married to his sociology professor. He groaned inwardly, lamenting his lack of luck in love recently. He had dated casually, but he knew all to well that he hadn't really had a serious girlfriend since Nikki near the beginning of senior year of high school. What a mess that girl had been. Brandon had been hopeful after the chance encounter with Lucinda at the gym, but he now knew getting involved with a married woman was not something he wanted to do. For any illicit thrill it would have provided, it wasn't worth the trouble. He promised himself as he drifted off to sleep that he would steer clear of Professor Randall's lovely wife, and he'd open his eyes a little wider to the reasonable possibilities for romance on the CU campus. He was ready to love again.

***

Brenda sat bolt upright in bed, her heart racing, her throat cotton-dry as she sucked in a deep breath and tried to regulate her pulse. Squinting at the clock, she saw it was nearly three in the morning, and the absolute silence of the room was a little disarming. A sliver of moonlight scissored in through the drawn blinds.

She took another breath, exhaling slowly and closing her eyes as she considered what had startled her from what had begun as a perfectly pleasant dream. She had been walking down a flower-strewn aisle, rows of blurred, smiling faces all fixed on her as she clutched at her father's arm. Faint strains of music had been playing, but she couldn't recall the exact melody now that she was awake. In her mind's eye she could see her mother, seated in the front pew, beaming at her with pride, and she thought she remembered seeing Donna, Kelly and Andrea standing to the left of the altar.

She felt her heart begin to accelerate again as she remembered what she had seen when the groom's face had slowly come into focus.

Dylan McKay had been waiting for her at the end of the aisle, his hand outstretched, waiting to take her own hand in his.

Brenda placed her thumbs at her temples and rubbed gently, shaking her head in disbelief as the dream played over and over in her mind like a film reel on a loop. Wouldn't Kelly have a field day psychoanalyzing this, she laughed bitterly to herself. Brenda had never really bought that mumbo-jumbo that dreams were manifestations of your subconscious desires. She had had some pretty bizarre dreams in her life, and she really didn't want to know what they meant.

And she especially didn't want to know what this dream meant. Dylan? No. Stuart was the one who was supposed to be waiting at the end of the aisle. Stuart _was_ the one who she was going to walk towards on her wedding day. She hadn't thought about Dylan in months, not since she had met Stuart.

She narrowed her eyes and glared towards the closed bathroom door. Brandon. She blamed Brandon. His accusations right before she had turned in for bed had messed with her mind, she reasoned. He had brought up Dylan and his own misgivings about Stuart, and that had sent her to sleep with thoughts of Dylan mingled among her own happy thoughts about her fiancé. They had had a nice evening together, in spite of Mrs. Carson's meddling in their wedding plans, and she _was _happy, she reassured herself. Dylan's guest appearance in her dream had been a fluke; he would not be reappearing any time in the near future.

Brenda took a slow sip of water from the glass she always kept by her bedside before settling back down under the covers. She closed her eyes and hoped for her sake, if she did dream again, she'd wake in the morning with no memory of it. The first dream, or nightmare or whatever it could be called, had been enough for one evening.

_Author's Note: _ Gee, Brenda, denial isn't just a river in Egypt, huh? Ha. Please remember that since this is an AU fic, I've taken some liberties with the timeline of Season 4. Brandon had only just met Lucinda at this point on the show, but I'm pushing along the fact that he learns she's married to Prof. Randall prior to him doing anything with her. I'm also introducing Jesse in my own way, later, in the fic, so we can't assume Andrea met him at the Walshes' party a few episodes prior to where this fic starts. She's still with Dan at this point, as you'll see in a few chapters. And as much as I love how the show got Brandon and Kelly together, I'm doing it _my _way.

P.S. Reviews make me write faster. Please?


	6. Hey, Jealousy

_**Author's Note: **_Thanks to everyone who left feedback on Chapter 5. It makes me happy that y'all are enjoying the story and being so positive about it. Please do keep the reviews coming; it really does fuel the creative fires.

Again, I hope you guys are enjoying the shorter vignettes around a common theme rolled into one chapter, so that the end of each chapter feels like a commercial break. I had planned the fic much differently, with a chapter focusing on just one person/couple, but found I liked this better. Hope you all agree! And Happy Thanksgiving, I can't promise I'll get more of this posted before Turkey Day (but feedback would sure help!) ~Court

**Chapter 6: Hey, Jealousy**

Andrea Zuckerman laid her right arm across her face to shield her eyes from the shafts of sunlight streaming through the blinds of her dorm room window. She squinted at the clock, trying to make out the neon green numbers without the aid of her contacts. Ten after eight, she noted, smiling as the promise of a sunny, beautiful Saturday dawned on her. Then suddenly realizing her single dorm bed felt a little smaller than usual, she became conscious of the fact Dan Rubin was no longer where he was when they had drifted off to sleep last night. She frowned and reached over, feeling around on the stack of crates she used as a makeshift bookshelf-cum-nightstand. No note.

Throwing back the covers and sliding out of bed, Andrea reached for her robe and slipped it on over her simple silk pajamas. She cracked open the dorm door and looked at the message board she kept tacked to the outside, knowing full well it was foolish to think Dan would leave a message there, but secretly hoping he might have dropped some pretense of keeping their relationship under wraps. Seeing nothing there, she closed the door quietly and rested her back against it, crossing her arms in puzzlement.

It had been a few short weeks since Andrea had fallen head over heels for Dan Rubin, who just happened to be not only her resident adviser, but also the graduate assistant to her English professor. It had been eight days since they had begun sleeping together, a situation which was entirely new ground for Andrea. Which was why, she knew, she was confused as to why she had gone to sleep next to Dan last evening, carefully spooned against his body, and woken up alone today. He hadn't mentioned anything about having plans today, and she had been under the impression that it was going to be a lazy Saturday for both of them.

She knew Dan wanted to keep their relationship private, citing both his position as her adviser and her sort-of-teacher. The university had no official policy warning resident advisers against dating the students they supported, nor were grad assistants held to the same strict no-fraternizing rule laid out for professors where students were concerned. Andrea had checked carefully before upping her pursuit of Dan. But she also knew he took both responsibilities seriously, and he also respected her situation and didn't want to make anything awkward for Andrea. But she wished things could be simpler. She had gone all throughout high school with just one serious boyfriend, Jay, and that relationship never made it very far since it was mostly long-distance with him away at college. Sure, she had nursed a serious crush on Brandon Walsh for the better part of three years, and she had casually gone out with Jordan a few times, but here she was, finally with a relationship she could be happy about, and she couldn't even really talk about it. Her Grandma Rose would be so proud, she mused, if and when she could finally bring home the nice Jewish boy she had found.

At the moment, she couldn't ignore the tiny flicker of hurt within her at the thought that Dan had sneaked off without waking her to say goodbye. It might have been naïveté, she reasoned, but it was still nagging at her.

She turned the door knob and glanced into the hallway once more. It was quiet and empty, no doubt because of it being early on a Saturday. Those who had stayed out making the most of their Friday nights would probably be sleeping it off til noon, she laughed to herself. So Andrea leaned across the desk next to her door, grabbed her room key and silently closed the door behind her, creeping noiselessly down the dim hall. She cringed as she passed one room where the sounds of gagging made her own stomach do flip-flops. Gross.

She came to a stop in front of Dan's door. Taking a deep breath, she rapped lightly on the door with her knuckles and waited. Silence. She counted to five and knocked, a little more forcefully this time. This time, she heard footsteps nearing the door.

The door swung open, and she came face to face with a sweaty and out-of-breath Dan.

"Andrea," he said simply. She looked him up and down, noticing he was wearing sweats and running shoes, and she deduced that he must have gone for a run. That calmed her anxiety a little bit.

"Hi," she smiled privately. "I was looking for you." Dan leaned past her and scanned the hallway before quickly guiding her into the room and closing the door. Andrea was always amused at how much better the resident advisers' rooms were. She knew she was lucky to have gotten a single room, compared to the doubles and triples that must have felt like closets with several guys or girls sharing them, and yet, her room was nothing compared to Dan's.

"I went for a run," he replied. "I didn't want to wake you, you were sleeping so soundly. And I came back here to shower. No offense, but me using the floor's communal shower would definitely raise some eyebrows."

"Well good," she smiled again. "I was worried for a moment." She scolded herself silently, hoping she wasn't coming off to desperate. It was still a fairly fresh relationship, after all. Dan returned her smile and leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on her lips.

"No need to worry," he murmured. "But don't get too close. I'm pretty disgusting right now. You can wait a bit while I grab a shower, or you can go back to your room and I'll come by in a bit."

"Did you want to go grab some breakfast in the Student Union?" she offered. Dan furrowed his brow and scratched at the back of his neck.

"I'm not sure we're ready for a public dining experience yet, are you?" Andrea pressed her lips together, trying to contain her disappointment as she faked a smile.

"Probably not a great idea, no," she lied. "But I could go down and grab a few things and we could eat in my room," she suggested.

"Now that idea I like," he grinned. "Besides, I'd rather not have a ton of people around when I spend time with you. I'm kind of selfish that way." He kissed the top of her head. "So you want to go get some food and I'll sneak down to your room when I get cleaned up?" Andrea raised an eyebrow and flashed him a wicked smile.

"Or we could get cleaned up together," she whispered, raising up on her tiptoes to kiss him passionately. "Breakfast can wait."

***

Brandon exhaled and raised the bar above his head once more, counting steadily to three before lowering the bar just inches away from his chest. He gritted his teeth and did four more reps, extending his arms to set the bar back in its resting place. He sat up and mopped at his neck with a towel, contemplating what he should move on to next.

The gym was quiet, being it was just before nine on a Saturday morning. It was a perfect time to workout, he had discovered, and thus, this had been his typical routine for the past few weekends.

It had also been here, just last week, that Brandon had encountered Lucinda Nicholson for the first time. He had known immediately that she wasn't a student at CU, but he hadn't known how she was connected to the university, and he certainly hadn't imagined she was married to one of his professors. She had been so flirtatious, so open in her demeanor when she had approached him as they had both used the treadmills. Brandon had been mesmerized by her, but knowing what he knew now, Lucinda Nicholson was a complication he was just not willing to deal with. He was still a bit raw from ending things with Emily Valentine, a girl who seemed to always reappear in his life when he was in need of her. This time, she had left for school in France, and though he wasn't sure why, Brandon felt that this break had been a permanent one. He certainly wasn't going to wait around for her.

"Well, someone's up early," a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Brandon glanced up and was met by the sight of Kelly Taylor standing before him. She had a gym bag slung over one shoulder, and she was casually dressed in an Alpha t-shirt and shorts.

"I didn't know you worked out here," Brandon replied honestly. Kelly wrinkled her nose at him.

"I don't. I was supposed to meet some of the other Alpha girls here for a yoga class, but surprise, surprise, joke's on this pledge. There are no yoga classes on Saturday mornings." She sat down next to him on the bench and tossed her bag to the ground. "I'll be happy when all this sorority pledging and hazing is done with. I'm getting pretty tired of it, between you and me." Brandon smiled at her.

"I'm so not regretting my decision not to pledge KEG with Steve," he chuckled. Kelly reached up and undid the ponytail that had held her long blonde hair off her neck, shaking it gently into loose waves around her shoulders.

"Don't rub it in," she warned. "Or I'll haze you myself." Brandon raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, and she blushed. Brandon couldn't remember ever seeing Kelly flush like that. She paused. "So you come here this early to work out?"

"Yeah, well, the exercise bike from the 80s that sits in our garage is my parents' idea of a workout, so I'm taking full advantage of the student gym," he replied. "It's pretty quiet here most mornings, as the jocks don't come out in full force til nearly ten." Kelly looked around, noting there were only a handful of other students using machines.

"Is that when your tutee rolls in?" she teased. Brandon shook his head.

"D'Shawn likes his beauty rest. I think he works out before he comes to our tutoring sessions, late, naturally, and then he times it so that he only has a few moments before practice starts. I think we've logged maybe an hour total in three meetings," he sighed. "He's a nice guy, he just takes nothing but basketball seriously."

"That's what happens, Brandon," she pointed out frankly. "Student athletes aren't like you and me. They pretty much get away with murder."

"Well, Professor Randall is tough. I mean, I think the guy is trying to give D'Shawn as many breaks as he can, but D'Shawn isn't giving much in return."

"Yeah, but he's got himself the best CU has to offer," she smiled, nudging him gently with her elbow. "If you can't get through to D'Shawn, the guy is unbreakable." Brandon smiled wryly.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Kelly. Tell me again why you weren't a cheerleader in high school?" She stood and grabbed her bag, flashing him another smile.

"I had better things to do with my time," she replied. "Have a good workout, Brandon." She slung her bag over her shoulder, gave him a little wink, and Brandon watched her stride towards the double doors at the end of the gym. Brandon smiled to himself and resumed his mental debate as to what he should do next. He decided on the leg machine, and he grabbed his towel and crossed the gym towards the apparatus.

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend." Brandon nearly jumped as Lucinda Nicholson materialized from what seemed to be out of nowhere. He glanced around and returned his gaze to Lucinda.

"Where the hell did you come from?" he demanded quietly. Lucinda shrugged.

"I was around," she replied nonchalantly, adjusting one of the straps of her sports bra, purposely fiddling with it to drawn Brandon's eyes to the bare curve of her neck. "I think that blonde girl is in one of my seminars."

"You mean Kelly?" Brandon knew Lucinda must have been watching him very closely. "She's not my girlfriend."

"She looked quite smitten with you. You forget I'm fairly fluent in body language," she smirked. "Not that I could blame a pretty young thing for being interested in you." Brandon took a breath and stepped back from her one step.

"Kelly is a good friend and has been for years," he replied honestly. "Contrary to popular belief, it is entirely possible for a man and a woman to be friends and have nothing happen between them."

"Yeah, but what fun is that?" she purred, stepping towards him again. He was gradually becoming more and more uncomfortable with the situation, both Lucinda's line of questioning, or prying, it really felt more like, as well as her proximity to him. He cursed himself silently for finding himself in this predicament to begin with. He never should have flirted with her in the first place; he sometimes hated himself for being the "good guy." In any other circumstance, he wouldn't have thought twice before giving in to Lucinda's advances. There was no denying she was beautiful, and her confidence was sexy as hell.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat and searching his mind quickly for an out. "I was just finishing up here. I have some things to do before my tutoring session with your husband's star pupil." He placed careful emphasis on the word husband. Lucinda pursed her lips and shot him a predatory look.

"Funny, I thought _you_ were his star pupil."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Randall," he said firmly, walking away from Lucinda towards the locker room. Once inside, he slumped against a row of lockers and stared up at the ceiling.

He was suddenly in desperate need of a cold shower.

***

A sharp knock on the door roused Dylan from a slumber he knew should have ended hours ago. It was nearly noon, he noticed, as he cracked one eye and saw the numbers on the digital clock. He groaned and threw back the covers, grabbing a worn pair of jeans from the floor near the foot of his bed. Another loud, this time more insistent knock.

"Coming!" he shouted, failing to keep the edge of annoyance out of his voice. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair and strode out of his bedroom, making his way towards the front door of the bungalow. It was probably Kelly, he assumed. She probably realized she needed one of the many things she had left strewn around his house, and hadn't bothered to collect yet. They had had their fair share of fights and break-ups through the past two years, and history had obviously taught her it wasn't a big deal to remove her belongings promptly, as the odds were they would have made up before she missed anything. He was fully expecting this time would be no different.

"What is it this time?" he asked, throwing the door open.

"Expecting someone?" Brenda Walsh narrowed her eyes at him. Dylan sighed and shook his head.

"Not you," he replied directly. "Come on in, Bren." She pushed past him and tossed her purse onto the couch, placing her hands on her hips accusingly. Dylan rolled his eyes and sank down to the couch, swinging his bare feet onto the makeshift coffee table casually. "Why do I get the impression this isn't a social call?"

"Cut the crap, Dylan," she barked. "Where the hell do you get off badmouthing my fiancé to my brother?"

"Ah, so that's what this is about," he smirked knowingly. "I call 'em like I see 'em, what can I say, Bren."

"That's my point," she yelled. He could see the little vein just above her lip throbbing, and he knew she meant business. It was a familiar, tell-tale sign she was angry; he had seen it more than a few times back when they had dated. "It's none of your business calling anything, especially where Stuart is concerned."

"There's nothing that says I can't have my opinion about the illustrious Stuart Carson," he retorted, leaning back against the pillows.

"I'm not concerned with your opinion. Keep it to yourself. What bothers me most is that you think it's your place to tell Brandon a bunch of stuff that happened years ago. This is my life, Dylan. I'll make my decisions for myself without anyone else's two-cents, thank you very much."

"Did Brandon tell you anything?" Dylan asked, hoping the siblings had had a heart to heart. Brenda could be stubborn, but all that was needed was those first seeds of doubt planted. Dylan had no reservations that Stuart himself would be the one to nurture those seeds into a giant tangled weed of mistrust. Brenda would see it for herself.

"I told Brandon exactly what I'm telling you right now. If you have such awful things to say about Stuart, you can tell me them yourself. I'm not going to listen to hearsay about someone I care about so deeply." A wistful tone crept into her voice. "And I really thought you respected me enough to know that, Dylan."

"You want to hear some of the things I told Brandon?" He watched her expression for a reaction. There was a steely determination in her eyes, that little vein still pulsing periodically. He patted the couch next to him. "If you've got an hour, I've got plenty to say." She tossed her raven hair and shook her head emphatically.

"The Stuart you knew years ago isn't the Stuart I know. People can change Dylan. You sure have," she declared icily.

"Ouch, that hurts, Bren," he replied mockingly. He knew he was only inciting more of her anger, but he also knew if you got Brenda Walsh angry enough, she would often crack. And that, he hoped, might reveal any other motivations she had had for this unexpected visit.

"What has happened to you, Dylan?" she asked, shaking her head again. "Are you really that far removed from the guy I fell in love with not so long ago?"

"You just said it yourself. People change," he replied tersely.

"No wonder you and Kelly are fighting all the time," she snapped. "It's a wonder anyone tolerates you like this."

"Yeah, well, take that up with Kelly. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to join the Dylan McKay bashing session."

"You know what I think, Dylan?" she announced, grabbing her purse. "I think you're jealous."

"You're crazy," he laughed.

"I don't think so. I think I've got it figured out. You've got some kind of history with Stuart Carson, and it kills you that he's matured into such a great guy."

"Stuart hasn't changed, trust me."

"I used to," she said, a twinge of sadness coloring her voice. She turned and walked towards the door, and before Dylan could find an appropriate reply, all he heard was the resounding slam of the door behind her.

He sighed deeply and leaned forward, holding his head in the palms of his hand, his thumbs working at his temples. It wasn't going to be as easy as he thought to open Brenda's eyes to the real Stuart Carson. She was completely smitten with the neat little façade Stuart had no doubt created to draw her in.

He was going to have to take a different approach to stop Brenda from making the biggest mistake of her life.


	7. Everybody Have Fun Tonight?

**Chapter 7: Everybody Have Fun Tonight?**

"Isn't an engagement party just a fancy way of begging for gifts?" David Silver complained as he fumbled with the tie on his tuxedo. Donna smacked him lightly on the arm and swatted his hands away, taking the scrap of black fabric between her own fingers and working it deftly into a perfect bowtie. David raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled sweetly.

"Years of watching my father dress for hospital galas and black-tie benefits," she shrugged knowingly.

"Thanks," David smiled appreciatively and kissed Donna lightly on the tip of her nose. "Why aren't you dressed yet?"

"Still deciding between two dresses," she replied, absently twirling the sash on her robe. "Do you think Brenda is making a mistake?"

"I don't think it's any of our business if she is," he answered, adjusting his cuff links.

"That doesn't answer my question," Donna pouted. "I mean, I've tried to be really supportive of her and really excited and energetic about her wedding…"

"But…" David supplied, knowing his girlfriend was heading somewhere.

"I mean, I feel the same way I think most of you do, and part of me really, really wants to tell her I think she should think this through and take her time. She doesn't even know Stuart all that well!"

"That's what everyone keeps saying," David agreed. "But Donna, you have to look at it this way. Brenda is a grown adult. This isn't high school anymore, and we all are going to have to start making these kinds of life-changing decisions."

"Why does high school seem so long ago?" she sighed sadly.

"Because whether it seemed it at the time, high school was pretty simple compared to college. We're that much closer to the real world, and if you ask me, that's why everyone is so freaked out by Brenda's engagement. It's the first "grown-up" thing any of us is attempting to do. And we're all thinking, 'when's it gonna be my turn?' you know?" Donna smiled.

"Why, David Silver, when did you become so insightful?

"I didn't know I had it in me, to be honest," he laughed. "Now you have a decision to make. Go get dressed!" Donna sighed.

"Fine," she exhaled. "But I'm gonna need a second opinion!"

"Second opinion on what?" Kelly stuck her head into David's room. David let out a low whistle.

"Wow, Kel," he shook his head. Kelly stared at him in puzzlement.

"What? What did I do?" Donna and David exchanged a glance.

"Your dress is beautiful," Donna began quietly. "But…" Kelly placed a hand on her hip and pursed her lips.

"But what?"

"But, do you think it's a good idea to look so stunning at someone else's engagement party?" David blurted out. Donna shot him a look.

"What David means," Donna started, shooting him yet another glare. "is that maybe tonight's not the best night to try to prove a point to Dylan." Kelly glanced down at herself and furrowed her brow.

"Who said I was trying to prove anything to anyone? I thought this dress was perfect, so I bought it. I was just waiting for the right occasion to wear it." She stepped across David's room and studied herself in the full-length mirror inside his closet door. She smoothed the silky red fabric over her hips and shifted the razor-thin straps of the gown to raise the neckline just a bit. "Besides, who said Dylan was even going to be there. My invite said Ms. Kelly Taylor and guest, and he's not _my _guest. Who said he was even invited?"

"True," David agreed.

"Kel, it's a beautiful dress," Donna assured her. "And we're not trying to be mean, here. You know how Brenda can get. Maybe it's best you save that dress for a…different occasion," she finished, giving Kelly a hopeful smile. Kelly frowned.

"You really think it's too sexy?"

"Yes," David replied immediately. "You can loan that dress to Donna anytime." Donna smacked him playfully once more. Kelly sighed and kicked off the red heels she was wearing, bending down to grab them and sling them over her shoulder.

"I guess I'll go search my closet for something more…boring. Maybe black. Isn't that the color of mourning?"

"Kelly!" Donna said in mock horror.

"It's what we're all thinking," she replied simply. "But this is Brenda's life. She can make her own mistakes."

"Be ready to go in ten minutes!" David called as Kelly exited the room. He turned his attention to Donna. "That goes for you too," he warned playfully. Donna nodded.

"Going," she replied.

"This is going to be an interesting evening," David muttered to himself as he headed out into the living room to wait for his girlfriend and the girl he still saw as his sister. For Kelly's sake, he hoped Dylan didn't show up. When Kelly, Dylan and Brenda were all in one place, things were bound to be complicated.

***

"I wish you'd change your mind and go with me to this party," Andrea murmured into the phone, cradling it between her ear and her shoulder as she fastened an earring to her free lobe. "There is going to be no one there that you know, I promise. Well, no one beyond Donna Martin from class, but she sort of already knows about us," she confessed. "I didn't want things to be weird for her."

"Weird for her?" Andrea could picture Dan's troubled expression on the other end of the phone. "No, it's not weird for me, standing in front of a class where my girlfriend is sitting with her friend who now knows said girlfriend is my girlfriend."

"I can tell you're flustered," she teased. "You're not making any sense."

"Andrea, you have to see things from my perspective. I know there's no university policy against what we're doing, but if I want to be taken seriously, both as an adviser and as a grad assistant who one day really wants to be a full-time professor here, it's just best if we lay low."

"And I don't necessarily disagree," she interjected. "But this is a society party, Dan. My friend's fiancé does not run in the same circles as our other friends or the general CU population. No one would even notice you were there."

"Some of CU's biggest donors are wealthy society types," he replied. "Like your friend Steve's dad Rush Sanders." Andrea sighed.

"I can tell I'm probably getting nowhere with you," she lamented. "But I guess I just wanted you to know it would have meant a lot to me if you'd have accompanied me tonight. I'm really happy with you, Dan," she whispered. "And I guess I feel like I should be able to shout it from the rooftops. I want my friends to get to know the man who's making me so happy."

"I understand that," he answered. "Our time will come, Andrea. I promise." There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "I've got to go. Give me a call when you get back from the party later this evening. I'm staying in since I've got a stack of papers to correct."

"Okay," she muttered, not masking her disappointment well. "I'll talk to you later."

"Night, Andrea."

"Night," she echoed, hanging up the receiver on her dorm phone and leaning her head against the wall in frustration. She glanced at the clock. She sighed and picked up the phone again, punching in the numbers in quick succession. It rang twice before a voice answered on the other end of the extension.

"KEG house."

"Just the person I was hoping would answer," she breathed. "Does that offer to ride along with you still stand?"

"Sure," Steve Sanders chuckled. "But my car's in the shop and you'll have to ride in the side-car of the motorcycle I rented."

"Very funny," Andrea mused.

"So you couldn't convince your mystery man to tag along for an evening of drunken debauchery?"

"Steve, this party is going to be anything but, and you know it."

"I know," he laughed. "That's why I said it."

"No, I couldn't," she replied, teasing at the crown of her head with her free hand to smooth some stray hairs back into place. "But I'm not going to let that stop me from enjoying myself tonight. This is important to Brenda, and we all need to be there and show our support."

"Couldn't agree more," Steve replied. "Well, I'll be over near your dorm in about twenty minutes to pick up my date, so be ready, okay? I'll honk the horn six times, and you can just run down."

"Steve," Andrea warned, knowing her friend was joking, but she found she wasn't really in the mood for too many jokes as a result of the lingering waves of resentment she was still feeling towards Dan.

"See you in a few, Andrea." She replaced the receiver and walked over to the small table where she kept her cosmetics and toiletries. She grabbed a tube of mascara and carefully swept the wand over her eyelashes twice before a light knock caught her by surprise.

"Be right there," she called, screwing the cap back on and tossing the tube onto the table. _This better not be one of Steve's stupid jokes_, she thought. But that was impossible, she knew. She had literally just hung up the phone with him, and there was no logical way he could have been at KEG house minutes ago and at her dorm door moments later.

She glanced through the peephole and drew in a sharp breath at the sight just visible in the dim light of the hallway.

"Dan." She bit her lip and tried not to get too excited as she observed he was dressed in a tasteful pinstriped suit and tie, and that certainly wasn't typical Saturday evening attire for Dan Rubin.

"Surprise," he smiled privately, stepping inside as she closed the door behind them. "I don't own a tuxedo, and it was too late to rent one, so I hope this passes the test for your friend's country club." Andrea felt goose bumps rising on her arms as a feeling of exhilaration spread through her body. He leaned down and kissed her lightly, placing his hands on her shoulders possessively. "You look beautiful."

"What made you change your mind?" she whispered. He smirked.

"I had made up my mind days ago. It was more fun to see you squirm and take you by surprise this way," he laughed softly. "Point is, Andrea, I'm crazy about you. And I'm starting to think I really don't care who knows it," he added. She hugged him fiercely and rested her cheek against his chest, the musky scent of his cologne heavy in her nostrils.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"No, thank you," he replied. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Andrea Zuckerman."

"What took you so long?" she quipped. "I already know I love you." She paused. "I hope you don't mind that my friend Steve was coming over to pick me up. He had offered me a ride before I knew for sure, well, thought for sure that you weren't going. And I accepted."

"Well, I do have a car," he reminded her. "But if you think it's easier to go with your friend, that's fine. He can be our designated driver."

"You don't know Steve very well," she giggled. "One of us is going to be driving _him_ home."

"That's fine. As long as I'm going home with you, I'm happy," he murmured, lowering his lips towards her for another kiss as they waited for Steve.

***

"Stuart, if you don't stop, we're never going to get to the party on time," Brenda chastised him, closing her eyes as Stuart's lips trailed across her collarbone. "And given the fact that this is _our_ party, being thrown by _your_ parents in _our_ honor, I'd say we'd best be on time." Stuart pulled away, lowering his eyes and giving Brenda his best pathetic expression.

"I know," he agreed. "But how often do we have the house to ourselves? My mother and father have already left for the club, and we've got to make the most of our privacy, don't you agree?

"We don't have the house to ourselves," she corrected him. "There must be a dozen servants still hanging around here in some vicinity."

"Please," Stuart snorted. "They've been looking the other way where I'm concerned for years. Amazing what a few folded-up bills in a pile of laundry or under a dirty dish will do for keeping things hush-hush." He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her towards him again. "Besides, we're both consenting adults, and I think it'd be downright naïve to think our parents don't know we're not saving ourselves til marriage." Brenda pushed his hand away and crossed Stuart's room to stare out the window at the large estate spread out before her.

"You know we have to give your mother a date tonight," Brenda said softly. "She wants to announce it at to all the guests at the party so they can mark their social calendars." Stuart came to stand behind her, kneading her shoulders gently with his strong fingertips.

"I know. And I'll be okay with whatever you choose," he added. "I think it should be your choice."

"Sometimes I feel overwhelmed," she confessed, biting her lower lip and worrying it between her teeth. "We got engaged because we love each other, but why do we have to rush this?" She felt the words start pouring out of her before she could stop them. "People have had long engagements. This ring," she wiggled her finger at him, "this signals that I'm yours, and that's good enough for me."

"Are you saying you don't want to get married?" Stuart's expression had grown stormy. Brenda sighed.

"No, Stuart, that's not what I just said. Were you listening to me?"

"I was listening," he growled quietly. "And to me, it sounded like you were making excuses as to why we shouldn't get married."

"Why we shouldn't rush to get married _now_," she emphasized. "I want to marry you, Stuart. I want to start a life with you, and travel the world with you, and have a family with you…" she trailed off, watching his face ease with relief, and she leaned up to kiss him to further quell his anxiety. "Maybe it's just nerves talking," she lied convincingly. "What would you think about a June wedding, once classes end for the semester. Just in case I decide to re-enroll," she added quickly. She still hadn't made up her mind what she wanted to do with her life, and she knew that was weighing heavy on her conscience too. How could she be making such a huge commitment to Stuart when she couldn't even control her own life?

"I think June would be perfect," he breathed, his eyes wide with anticipation. "We'll get a calendar and find a Saturday in June, then." He dashed towards the large antique roll-top desk in the corner of his room and began flipping through the pages of a leather-bound day planner. "The 18th is a Saturday," he offered. "Which I guess would also give us the 4th, the 11th or the 25th."

"Do you feel strongly about any of those?" she asked. Stuart shrugged.

"They're all the same to me," he replied. "I just know some girls are funny about dates. Like they want a lucky number, or an anniversary of something, or…you know."

"Well none of those have any significance to me," she said. "Let's go for the 4th then. 6-4-94. It sounds good enough." He smiled and took her hands in his.

"Then June 4th it is," he said happily.

"June 4th," she echoed. Stuart brushed a fingertip along her jaw line.

"Have I told you tonight how beautiful you are?"

"No," she replied, shivering at his touch.

"Well, then, I guess I should. You," he started, nuzzling her neck, "look absolutely amazing. I'm a very lucky guy," he added, smiling at her. She smiled back, ignoring the clenching tightness in her stomach and the buzzing sensation swirling in her head.

"Come on," she announced, lacing her fingers through his. "We'd better go. You know how your parents get when we're even a few minutes late for anything." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

"You're so right," he agreed. "Let's go. Tonight is our night to shine." Brenda nodded, following Stuart from the room, hoping the evening would pass quickly. She scolded herself silently for wanting nothing more at that moment than to crawl into her bed at home, in her parents' house, and to be alone. Because in spite of being by Stuart's side all evening, and being surrounded by her parents, her brother and her friends, she knew that was exactly how she was going to feel tonight.

Alone.

***

Dylan drummed his fingers against the kitchen table, listening to the Muzak on the other end of the phone, indicating that he was still on hold. He sighed and shifted in his chair, using his free hand to tug at the collar of his tuxedo. Brenda's engagement party was the last place on earth he wanted to be, and yet, it was the only place he wanted to be that evening.

He had figured he and Kelly would have eventually agreed to go together, as he hadn't expected her to stay angry at him this long after the firing range incident. But she had made no effort to contact him in the past few days. He knew she'd be there tonight, and he really wasn't sure what they'd have to say to each other when their paths crossed. He found himself more and more confused about where he and Kelly Taylor stood and what future, if any, they had.

But Kelly wasn't really his primary concern at the moment. He groaned impatiently, looking at his watch again, silently imploring the receptionist to get back on the line and tell him what he wanted to hear.

After several more minutes passed, he heard a muted beep and a click.

"Mr. McKay?"

"Yes?" Dylan sat upright.

"You're aware this is a Saturday, your request is highly unusual, and Mr. Wyatt has already left for the day?"

"Yeah," he exhaled irritably. "But I'm hoping you'll still give me the answer I was looking for," he added, an imploring edge to his voice.

"I do have the document you inquired about on record," the woman replied crisply. "I cannot, however, provide you with any copies of said document. I'm sorry."

"But it's there, and someone else could obtain it if they had proper identification?" he pressed.

"Yes," she replied again. Dylan's face broke into a slow smirk.

"Thank you," he grinned. "You've been most helpful."

"Have a nice day, Mr. McKay." She was all-business, and the call ended abruptly. Dylan snapped his fingers and stood, laughing quietly.

"Tonight just got a little more interesting," he announced, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

-----

_**Author's Note: **_You didn't think I'd actually tell you what Dylan is up to, did you? I hope this chapter doesn't feel too rushed. I wrote most of it last night in my head on the way back from a concert, so I wrote fast today to get it all out, and I wanted to get it up for you guys so I didn't proof it too much.

I managed to weave everyone into that chapter, basically, except Brandon. I had started a short scene with him getting ready with Jim and Cindy, but it actually just felt like filler and went nowhere, so it's gone now. He'll have his moments at the party, which obviously is coming next chapter. It's going to take some effort to write that chapter, which is completely planned, but you know how to get me writing faster? Send feedback! Nothing cures a turkey hangover like positive reviews.

Happy Thanksgiving! ~Court


	8. It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

**Chapter 8: It's My Parry (And I'll Cry If I Want To)**

"Have I told you tonight how happy I am that you two were never rich enough to expose Brenda and me to this ridiculous country club scene growing up?" Brandon declared to his parents as the three of them stood off in a corner of the large, opulent ballroom of the Hillcrest Golf and Country Club, where Brenda and Stuart's engagement party was being held.

"Brandon!" Cindy Walsh exclaimed, shooting her son a warning look. "Can we please try to have a positive attitude tonight, for your sister's sake?" Brandon rolled his eyes and grabbed another shrimp canapé from the waiter who passed by with a sterling-silver tray perched at his shoulder.

"At least the food is good," Jim piped up, gesturing at the bacon-wrapped scallops resting in his cocktail napkin.

"You think the bartender is carding?" Brandon wondered, only half-joking.

"Brandon!" Cindy warned again. He sighed and popped the shrimp into his mouth, chewing absently as his gaze traveled around the decked-out ballroom. A nine-piece band was playing in the far right corner of the room, several older couples already taking advantage of the large dance floor at the center of the room. A bar was in operation along the east wall of the ballroom, and from what Brandon could see, it was extensive in its selection. He really did wonder if a place like this bothered asking for ID. On second thought, he concluded, they probably had to, what with so many spoiled, underage children coming in and out of the club using Mommy and Daddy's memberships. But then again, this was an engagement party, and Brandon had to assume that the champagne would eventually be flowing.

As if on cue, a waitress in white gloves came by with a full tray of crystal champagne flutes. She paused in front of the Walshes, and both Jim and Cindy reached for glasses, smiling politely and murmuring their thanks. She turned to him and extended the tray. Raising an eyebrow in amusement at his parents, Brandon took a glass and said his own thank you to the girl. She continued on through the crowd without so much as a second glance.

"Cheers," Brandon grinned, taking a sip of the bubbly. Cindy shook her head.

"I'm actually kind of surprised that Lawrence and Viv haven't been over to say hello yet." Jim cleared his throat. "I mean, we are the bride-to-be's parents."

"They're in their element, Dad. Remember, we're the outsiders here. They'll tolerate us for the evening, but this is their big night to show off in front of their friends."

"Brandon, honestly, can you go one minute without criticizing this place or the Carsons?" Cindy sighed, exasperated. "Please, can you just be happy for your sister?"

"I'd be happier, Mom, if I knew she was doing the right thing," he replied bluntly. "I told you I'm not convinced Stuart Carson is good news."

"You know your sister," Jim reminded him. "She can be very stubborn, especially when it comes to her, uh, love life." Cindy nodded in agreement with her husband.

"Your father is right," she began. "While we may not really think Brenda is ready for all this, we're better off being supportive. The more we resist or criticize Brenda, the more liable she is to rebel. We all remember Dylan," she added quickly.

"Ah, you mean the fateful jaunt to Mexico," Brandon snickered. "I still can't believe she was so stupid to forget her ID. If it weren't for that, she'd have gotten away with it with you two being none the wiser."

"Thank you, Brandon," Jim retorted dryly.

"Oh, Kelly and Donna and David are here!" Cindy smiled brightly, and Brandon turned to see the trio entering through the main doors to the grand ballroom. He caught Kelly's eye, and she gave a little wave, turning to indicate to David and Donna to follow her. The three crossed the room and approached where the Walshes were standing.

"Hi! Isn't this place beautiful?" Donna exclaimed. David and Kelly exchanged an amused glance.

"Donna was telling us all about how this country club is different from the one where her parents belong," Kelly informed them. Donna flushed, and Brandon smiled.

"They're all the same to me," he shrugged. Kelly noticed the flute in his hand.

"Are we drinking, Brandon Walsh?" she teased.

"It's the only way any of us are going to survive this evening," he proffered. Kelly giggled, and Brandon pretended not to notice the nasty look his mother shot him. Instead, he met Kelly's eyes, and she flashed him a smile. He was surprised to find himself studying her, his eyes taking in appreciatively how great she looked in the dress she had chosen, how it clung to her curves in all the right placed. He swallowed and hoped she hadn't noticed him staring at her.

"Is Dylan coming tonight?" Cindy asked innocently. Brandon groaned inwardly, not realizing his mother wasn't aware Kelly and Dylan were, at the moment, off-again. He also knew Kelly would have had a much different response had it not been his mom who had asked the question. Kelly gave Mrs. Walsh a polite smile and shrugged casually.

"I don't really know what Dylan is up to right now, Mrs. Walsh," she replied evenly. Brandon saw a brief glint of confusion in his mother's expression, so he met her eyes and raised his eyebrows, silently sending her the message that the two were not together right now. She seemed to receive said message.

"Oh," she nodded. "I see."

"So where's Brenda?" Donna spoke up.

"We haven't seen her yet," Brandon answered.

"Now _this_ is a party!" Everyone turned to find Steve Sanders standing before them, managing to have made a quiet entrance while no one was looking. He was holding the hand of a pretty blonde, and looking beyond Steve, Brandon was surprised to see Andrea Zuckerman clutching the arm of a tall man who appeared several years older than any of them. He tried to catch Andrea's eye, but she was too engrossed in the guy standing next to her.

"Steve," Cindy smiled warmly. He leaned over and hugged Mrs. Walsh hello, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Everyone, this is Laura Kingman," he gestured to the blonde at his side. Brandon could tell she was shy by the half-wave she gave and the barely audible "hi" that she murmured. Hellos were exchanged, and then the attention turned to Andrea. She broke her gaze at the guy to face her friends.

"And this is Dan Rubin," she beamed, his arm tightening around her. At that moment, Stuart's parents finally approached where the groups was all congregated.

"Jim, Cindy," Lawrence boomed.

"Hi, Larry," Jim reached out and shook the man's hand.

"Cindy," Vivian said crisply, doing that air-kiss thing that always seemed so absurd to Brandon.

"We just got a call from Stuart on his car phone. The kids should be here any moment. Let's head out towards the main entrance so we can welcome them and announce their entrance." It wasn't really a request Mr. Carson was making, Brandon noted. More of an order, really, and he watched his parents share a look, and then they obediently followed the Carsons across the ballroom. Brandon shook his head in amazement and turned back to his friends.

"Why does that guy look familiar?" he whispered to Kelly, who was still standing beside him. She shook her head slowly and exhaled softly.

"Not sure. Steve's date looks familiar to me, though," she replied. She turned to Steve and Laura. "Did you rush? You look so familiar," she asked the girl. Laura nodded.

"Yeah, I did, I was between Alpha House and Zeta, but I actually wasn't invited to either," she answered quietly. Kelly smiled tightly, trying to absorb some of the girl's clear embarrassment.

"Well, that's where I must have seen you," she breezed. "That's a really great dress." Laura smiled a little wider.

"Good save," he hissed to Kelly. She winked at him.

"Come on, Laura," Steve announced. "The dance floor is calling my name, and I wore my dancing shoes."

"Good luck," Kelly called, giggling as Steve led his date towards the center of the room, disappearing among the throngs of middle-age couples attempting to cut a rug. Donna turned to David.

"Should we join them? David laughed.

"This really isn't my kind of music," he replied.

"David, I'd be willing to bet none of those musicians could even name one R&B or hip-hop artist, let alone be ready to play one of their songs on command," Kelly declared. "You're out of luck there." Donna grabbed his hand.

"Oh, come on, just be a good sport!" And with that, she led him away towards the dance floor. Kelly nudged Brandon gently with her elbow.

"What are the odds we're going to see you out there before the evening is through?" she joked.

"Hell would have to freeze over or I'd have to have an incredible amount of these," he replied, waving his empty champagne glass. Kelly pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't be so sure. I have my ways," she demurred.

"As I recall, you were the last person to get me to dance, so you can try your luck," he teased back.

"And as _I _recall," Kelly began, "I tried to get you to do more than dance that night, and you very gently broke my heart," she pouted playfully. Brandon smiled wryly. He remembered all right. Kelly held his gaze for what seemed like a long time until Andrea interrupted them.

"Brandon, I wanted to introduce you to Dan personally," she smiled. "Dan, this is one of my best friends, Brandon Walsh. He's the one I told you about that's going to be working on the educational task force." Dan smiled and reached out to shake Brandon's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Brandon," he offered. "Andrea speaks very highly of you."

"Thanks, man. I wish I could say the same thing, but it seems Andrea has been a bit secretive about the new guy in her life," Brandon accused teasingly, crooking an eyebrow at Andrea. She lowered her eyes and blushed slightly.

"I'll explain that to you later," she promised. Brandon noticed Kelly shifting uncomfortably, and he also noticed Andrea had completely overlooked her other friend.

"Hi, I'm Kelly," she extended her hand, making her own introduction. Dan shook her hand warmly.

"Your girlfriend?" Dan asked, and it took Brandon a minute to realize the statement had been directed at him. He looked over at Kelly, who was giving him an amused smile.

"No," Brandon replied. "No, no," he repeated.

"Kelly's another good friend of mine," Andrea interjected. "She's actually majoring in psychology," she explained to Dan, and then turned back to Brandon and Kelly. "Dan has a friend who's a TA in the psych department."

"Oh, who does he assist?" Kelly asked.

"Dr. Barnes," Dan replied. Kelly thought for a moment.

"I don't think I've heard too much about him," she said.

"Her," Dan corrected. "Dr. Barnes is a woman. And she's tough as nails. Tom, that's my friend, he hates his placement. Says she's a real dragon lady."

"Then I'll try to avoid her when scheduling classes next semester, thanks," Kelly smiled gratefully.

The band had switched to some slower songs, and Andrea clutched Dan's arm once more.

"Can we dance?" she asked hopefully. Dan shrugged.

"I don't know if I _can_ dance, but for you, I will," he replied. Andrea giggled, and Brandon watched the two of them head towards the dance floor.

"Wow, Andrea's completely smitten, isn't she?" Kelly mused. She laughed. "And then there was the two of us, again, Mr. Walsh."

"I'm not dancing, Kel," he shook his head. And then suddenly, the music stopped, and the dancing couples in the center of the room stopped. All eyes turned towards the entrance.

"Ladies and gentlemen," one of the band members announced clear over the microphone. "Please direct your attention to the ballroom's grand entrance and welcome our guests of honor this evening here at the Hillcrest. The future Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Carson, escorted by their parents!" Stuart and Brenda materialized at the double doors, flanked by his parents and Jim and Cindy. The gathered guests began to applaud, and just as suddenly as it had stopped, the music started again.

"Brenda looks completely comfortable with all this attention on her," Kelly murmured to Brandon as they both watched her mingle among the many guests, mostly friends of the Carsons, who were approaching her and Stuart to offer their congratulations.

"You know Brenda," Brandon agreed. "She's never met a spotlight she didn't like."

"True."

"You want champagne?" Brandon asked abruptly, seeing a waiter with a full tray heading their way. He knew Kelly wasn't the biggest fan of alcohol, having spent the better part of her teen years coping with an alcoholic mother, but a little champagne never hurt anyone.

"Why not?" she replied. Brandon nodded towards the waiter when he made eye contact, and he accepted two glasses, handing one to Kelly.

"Thanks," she smiled. She began to raise the glass to her lips.

"Uh, uh," Brandon scolded, holding out his own glass. "To being single." Kelly smiled wryly.

"To being alone." She clinked her glass against his.

"I didn't say alone, I said single."

"Is there a difference?" she lamented.

"Well, I don't feel alone right now, do you?" he pointed out quietly, meeting her eyes. She took a sip from her champagne and licked her lips slowly.

"I guess not," she answered softly, not willing to break eye contact with him. Brandon cleared his throat and gestured towards the door.

"I think my sister is coming this way," he indicated, and Kelly finally tore her eyes away from his and looked towards where Brandon was nodding.

"Brandon, hi," Brenda smiled brightly. "Hi Kelly," she added, giving her friend a quick hug.

"Hey, Brandon," Stuart said casually. "Kelly." He nodded towards her.

"Hi," they both answered, in unison. Brandon looked over at Kelly, who didn't meet his eyes this time.

"You look beautiful," Kelly offered to Brenda. "I love that dress." Brenda looked down at her shimmering emerald-green gown.

"Thanks," she replied. "Is Dylan coming?" Brandon thought he saw a glimmer of hope spark in Brenda's eye, and he glanced quickly at Kelly, whose own expression had clouded over.

"How should I know?" Kelly answered sharply. Stuart turned his own attention to Brenda.

"Why would Dylan McKay be coming?" he asked quizzically.

"Because he was invited," Brenda replied bluntly. Stuart narrowed his eyebrows and glowered.

"Who invited him?"

"I did."

"Kelly, do you want to dance?" Brandon asked hastily.

"I'd love to," she replied, letting Brandon lead her away, his hand on the small of her back. Brenda watched her brother and friend make a quick exit from the conversation. Or confrontation, as she knew it was about to become. Stuart grabbed Brenda's arm just above the elbow and lowered his voice to a sharp hiss.

"Why are you inviting your ex-boyfriend to our engagement party?" Brenda glared at him and shook her arm free from Stuart's grip.

"Why do you care? Dylan is still a friend of mine," she retorted. "And up until a few weeks ago, he was my friend's boyfriend. I actually assumed they'd probably be back together by now and they'd have come together." She cocked her head at him and smoothed her hair off her forehead. "Are you jealous, Stuart?" He snorted.

"Guys like me aren't jealous of boys like Dylan McKay," he said snidely. "I just worry about you, that's all," he softened his voice. "He has a way of manipulating you, and I know he's probably told you a bunch of lies about me. You know we were friends for about two minutes years ago."

"So I've heard," she replied dryly. "And for the record, Stuart, yes, Dylan had a little conversation with my brother, and I took him to task for it. He's got no business dredging up the past, and I let him know it." She paused. "But you should know, if there's anything you think I should know, I'd rather hear it from you." Stuart shrugged.

"You said it best. The past is the past, and I've grown up a lot since Dylan McKay and I ran in the same circles. I've got a great future, and I've got a great gal by my side." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Let's just hope McKay doesn't ruin this party by showing his face, huh?"

"Well, I'm telling you, I invited him as a friend, and if he does in fact show up, we're going to treat him as a friend. I expect you to be respectful and cordial, no matter how much you dislike each other. Be the bigger man, Stuart. You say you've changed, prove it." Brenda thought she saw Stuart roll his eyes, but she couldn't be certain as he wasn't looking directly at her.

"Come on, I want you to meet someone," he declared, grabbing her hand and swiftly changing the subject. "I see my old tennis coach." Brenda sighed and plastered a fake smile on her face as she fell into step beside Stuart.

***

"You think Dylan will show up?" Brandon asked, swaying slowly to the music, his arms wrapped loosely around Kelly's slender waist. She shrugged, her bare shoulders wiggling slightly.

"Who cares?" she replied absently. Truth be told, she wasn't really thinking about Dylan at the moment. She was too focused on the feel of Brandon's arms around her, and she wasn't all that surprised to find she still wondered what might have been had he responded differently to her advances a few years ago at that spring dance. "I don't know why you hate to dance so much," she murmured. "You're not bad at it."

"Thanks," he laughed sardonically. "But slow dancing is really just moving your feet back and forth. It's any other kind of dancing that I object to."

"Slow dancing is good," she mused quietly. She felt Brandon's hands move slightly, lightly caressing her back, and then almost immediately, he moved them back down to her waist.

"So," Brandon began slowly. "You don't want to talk about Dylan?" Kelly bit her lip.

"Not really. There's not much to say," she replied. "You know with the carjacking, he really went overboard with the self-defense and protection stuff, and he was starting to freak me out with all the gun stuff. And that got us fighting, and we just decided we needed to take a break." Brandon nodded.

"So you're not _not_ seeing each other," he pointed out.

"If you want to be technical," she sighed. "But I'm also not sitting around waiting for him to come to his senses." Brandon paused, and he contemplated bringing up Dylan's intent on exposing Stuart's true nature, or what Dylan perceived to be the real Stuart, but he thought better of it. Dylan and Kelly's relationship wasn't any of his business.

"Brandon?" she asked.

"Huh?" he looked up, his train of thought interrupted by her voice.

"Nothing, really," she confessed. "You just looked a little lost in thought there." He smiled sheepishly.

"I was," he replied.

"Well, they just announced the first course is being served, so I guess we should find our table." Brandon nodded.

"Yeah, I guess we should." He released his hold on Kelly, and she surprised him by leaning over and gently kissing his cheek.

"Thanks for the dance," she smiled sweetly. Brandon couldn't help but smile back.

"My pleasure." He swept his hand in a quick gesture, and Kelly stepped before him. He followed her towards a table where the rest of the gang was already seated. When they reached the table, Brandon reached out and pulled out one of the two remaining empty chairs, indicating to Kelly to have a seat. She gave him another brilliant smile as she settled into the chair.

"Not so fast, bro," Steve declared as Brandon made a move for the vacant seat next to Kelly. "You're sitting at the VIP table." Brandon gave his friend a confused look.

"You're sitting with your parents, the Carsons and the happy couple," Donna explained quickly. Brandon sighed and pushed the chair back under the table. Glancing down quickly at the placard, he read the name in calligraphy. Mr. Dylan McKay.

"Well, then, I guess I'll see you guys later," he replied, giving Kelly one last look. Her face wasn't easy to read at the moment, but Brandon could have sworn she looked a little crestfallen. He turned and headed for the table where his parents and the Carsons were already seated. Brenda and Stuart, as far as he could see, were not yet with them.

And that's when Brandon heard voices, rising above the soft music, and they were coming from outside the ballroom.

"Mom, Dad, give me a second," he called, passing right past the table and making his way towards the double doors. As he crossed the threshold into the massive lobby of the country club, he saw Brenda, hands on her hips, standing firmly between Stuart and Dylan McKay.

"Guys, what's going on?" Brandon asked, quickly thinking and pushing the double doors to the ballroom closed. Brenda looked over and met her brother's eyes.

"Nothing, Brandon. We were just trying to get a few things straight before Dylan came in and joined the party."

"No, Brandon," Dylan announced. "What I was trying to do was open your sister's eyes to the guy she thinks she's marrying."

"I'm sick of your interference, McKay," Stuart growled, shooting daggers at the younger man. "Stay the hell out of Brenda's life." Dylan took a step towards where Brenda and Stuart stood.

"You know, Stuart, I'd be happy to do that if I thought you had Brenda's best interests at heart."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Stuart snarled. Brenda placed a hand on Stuart's chest, trying to keep him calm as Dylan stood his ground.

"Dylan," Brenda began quietly. "I know you're trying to be a good friend, but we had this conversation. I'm happy with Stuart, and I believe he's grown up a lot since you knew him"

"Oh, he's grown a lot. He's a bit taller, hair's a little longer," Dylan replied sarcastically. "But he's pretty much the same ol' Stuart Carson. Loves his money. Always has," he added.

"Is that what this is about?" Brenda gasped. "Money? Dylan, you of all people should know that's not something that matters to me."

"Well, that's good, because thanks to Stuart, you're not going to have any of it," Dylan declared. Brandon furrowed his brow, studying his friend. _What was Dylan up to?_ he wondered. Brenda shook her head.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.

"I'm sure you don't. I'm sure Stuart didn't bother telling you, and he probably wasn't going to. Hell, he might not have even told you before he had you sign it." Brandon noticed Stuart's face blanched a little, but he stood firm and squared his shoulders. Brenda turned and faced her fiancé.

"Stuart, what is he talking about?"

"I'm not sure," Stuart said warily. Dylan smirked.

"He knows exactly what I'm talking about. I made a few phone calls today, and it's funny what people will tell you when you ask the right questions." Dylan turned and began to pace, interlocking his fingers, clearly enjoying the show he was putting on. "Now, no one could provide me with legal copies, you understand, because I'm not Stewie here, but I happen to know for a fact that one prenuptial agreement has been drawn up for the marriage of Brenda Walsh and Stuart Carson." That was all he needed to say, and he knew it. Brenda's eyes flashed fire, and she spun accusingly towards Stuart.

"You lied to me!" she exclaimed. Stuart held his hands up in protest.

Brandon stalked forward and grabbed Dylan's forearm. "Come on, man, you've done your damage for the evening. Let's go inside and let them talk." Dylan shook his head.

"Nah, sorry, not staying. My job here's done."

"I'm not through with you either," Brenda hissed as he passed by her towards the main entrance.

"I'm counting on it," Dylan laughed, giving a little wave as he left the club. Brandon sighed. He couldn't wait to explain this one to the gang. He slipped back inside the ballroom and left Stuart and Brenda to battle it out.

"Where are Stuart and Brenda?" his mother asked innocently as Brandon slid into his seat at the head table.

"Oh, Cindy, they're young and they're in love," Vivian cooed. "I think it's adorable they always want to be alone together." Brandon snickered quietly.

"Something wrong, Brandon?" Jim raised an eyebrow at his son.

"If you only knew, Dad," he shook his head, raising his fork to take a bit of the Caesar salad that had been placed at his seat.

***

"I can't believe you drew up a pre-nup without telling me," Brenda shrieked, her voice echoing through the cavernous lobby.

"Brenda, honey, calm down, please," Stuart warned, looking towards the closed ballroom doors.

"I don't think I should have to calm down! I just found out my fiancé lied to me!"

"I see," Stuart snapped. "You're so quick to believe the words that come out of Dylan McKay's mouth, but you don't want to let your fiancé get a word in edgewise to explain some things."

"There's nothing to explain," she seethed, hot tears pricking at her eyes. "You told me right after we got engaged that you didn't believe in prenups and we weren't going to have one."

"If money doesn't matter to you, why do you care so much if we _do_ have one?" he asked accusingly. Brenda clenched her fists. She couldn't believe he had the nerve to say what he had just said.

"It has nothing to do with the money, Stuart. It's the principle. We had discussed this, and you went behind my back anyway!" Stuart sighed and began to pace.

"It wasn't my idea," he confessed softly, his mood changing starkly. "I had no say in it, Bren. Please believe me. My father blindsided me with it just the other day, and I was trying to find the right way to discuss it with you. I didn't know someone else would be so vicious as to use it to create tension between us."

"I'd say this goes a little beyond tension," she snapped. Her heart was pounding, and a dull ache had crept into her head, causing a throbbing pain to stab at her temples. This was not how she had envisioned what was supposed to be a happy engagement party surrounded by all her friends.

"Brenda, please," Stuart pleaded. "You have to believe that I trust you. I know you're not with me for my money. But you don't know my dad like I do. He would make any girl I was planning to marry sign one." Brenda studied her fiancé's face, his forehead wrinkled with worry, his eyes heavy with regret. "And I was absolutely going to tell you," he confessed. "I was just trying to find the best time. I knew it would upset you. I knew you'd think _I'd_ think it was about the money. It's not, Brenda. I promise." He was near babbling now. Brenda sighed.

"Listen to me, Stuart," she began slowly. "We're going to go back inside, pretend like nothing is wrong, and we're going to enjoy the rest of this party. We're not going to discuss prenup agreements, or Dylan McKay, or anything else contentious between us. We'll deal with this when the last guests have left and we're alone again. Agreed?" Stuart didn't answer her. He was pacing furiously. "Stuart?"

"Marry me, Brenda," he begged, dropping to one knee in front of her. Brenda looked down at him in confusion as he held her left hand in his.

"Stuart, we are engaged. What are you doing? What are you talking about?" He rose back to his feet, still holding her hands tightly in his.

"I mean now. I mean, not right now, that would kind of be a problem with over two-hundred guests in the other room. But I'm serious that a prenup means absolutely nothing to me. And if sending a message to my father is what will prove my love to you, then let's do it!"

"Stuart, you're not making any sense," Brenda whispered, searching his eyes.

"I'm talking about eloping," he grinned softly. "Just you, me, and a justice of the peace. Or an Elvis impersonator. Or whatever you want." His grin spread. "Think about it. If we go off to Vegas and just get married, before I can even have you sign the prenuptial agreement my dad and his stupid lawyer drew up, then this albatross around our necks disappears completely." Brenda backed up and placed her hand on one of the many tables around the lobby to steady herself. Eloping. And from the look of things, Stuart was dead serious.

"Stuart, I don't know," she said, her voice barely audible. He leapt forward and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her towards him.

"Think about it Brenda. You really didn't want this big huge wedding that my parents are forcing us to plan, right?"

"Right," she echoed softly.

"And we both would love to get out of our parents' houses and just be together, right?"

"Right," she replied, not sure she believed her own words, but she heard them leave her lips anyway.

"And really, all we need for this to work is you and me. We love each other, we don't need anything else." His voice was so earnest, and his eyes were shining with excitement. Brenda found her resolve weakening, and she remembered the spontaneity that had made her fall in love with Stuart in the first place.

A thrill suddenly coursed through her body, igniting the fiery streak of independence that she had always harbored. Stuart was right. She didn't need anyone telling her what to do, or how to think, especially how to get married. And she most certainly didn't need Dylan McKay trying to prove her wrong. In fact, marrying Stuart was the best way to prove _everyone_ wrong.

"Let's do it," she declared, a slow smile creeping onto her face. Stuart let out a cry of joy and grabbed her by the waist, swinging her around and crushing her lips to his in a triumphant kiss.

"We're not going to tell anyone," he whispered fiercely. "I'm going to make the arrangements. We'll go Tuesday. No one will expect anything."

"Okay," she laughed, feelings tears well in her eyes again as the swirling mix of emotions overcame her. Stuart kissed her again and brushed his thumbs at the corners of her eyes to wipe away the tears.

"Let's go back inside and get through this party. We'll figure out the details later," he smiled. "People are going to talk if we don't make an appearance at dinner."

"Oh, people are going to be talking alright," she whispered. Stuart grinned and squeezed her hand.

"That they will," he added, placing his hand on the ballroom door and ushering her inside. Brenda willed her racing heart to be still, and she pressed her lips together tightly, doing her best to appear normal as they reentered the party and took their seats among those wanting to celebrate their happiness.

The same people who were in for a massive shock come Wednesday morning.

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_**Author's Note: **_Wow, that took on a life of its own. I actually had this planned as two chapters, but then it just started writing itself, and I realized it kind of needed to just be one full chapter. I'm actually not sure I'll show the rest of the party. I might want Brandon keeping that little scene he witnessed to himself, for now. So we'll see what I come up with…but one thing's for sure: happy thoughts make me write faster. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. :~Court


	9. Should I Stay or Should I Go

_**Author's Note: **_We're getting closer to Vegas, baby! I'm well aware that I already used Hillcrest in the name of the country club (the name of the street on which the Walshes live), but that was the only real country club in Beverly Hills that looked exclusive enough for the Carsons to belong to. Meh, so the name's the same. No biggie, right?

I was thinking about starting a new story, but clicking that review button and telling me how much you love _this_ one might force me to work on Chapter 10 first. Please?

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**Chapter 9: Should I Stay or Should I Go**

_Tuesday Morning_

The Walsh House was empty, save for her, Brenda knew, and yet, she still felt as if her actions qualified as "sneaky." She glanced at the small suitcase open on her bed, and she bit her lip as she stared.

The past two days since the engagement party had pretty much been business as usual. In fact, things had been eerily serene. It only served to compound her guilt about what she was about to do. Brandon hadn't said anything more to her about what he had witnessed Saturday night, and she hadn't heard a word from Dylan. She had spent the better part of the weekend with Stuart, quietly making plans for their elopement to Las Vegas, and she figured her family and friends just assumed they were caught up in wedding details.

Mrs. Carson had, of course, been thrilled to take the microphone from the band leader and announce the date Brenda and Stuart had supposedly selected, gushing to her guests that in just a little over six months, they'd all be gathered in the same place once again celebrating her Stuart and his bride.

It had been excruciating to sit there, knowing what had been decided, and listen to it all. Brenda knew that this elopement was not going to be as simple as Stuart assured her it would be. Sure, maybe the actual "I do" part would go off without a hitch, but she knew once the vows had been said, the rings were on their fingers and they were headed back to Beverly Hills, all hell was going to break loose. Brenda sighed and sat gingerly at the edge of her bed, her fingers wandering to the simple white lace sheath dress lying across her comforter. She had bought it Sunday afternoon, at Stuart's urging, at a store on Rodeo that was far too extravagant for her taste. But then Stuart had persuaded her that she still deserved a wedding dress, and he plunked down his credit card without another word.

She grabbed the dress from the bed and walked across her room to the full-length mirror in the corner. She held the dress flush against her body and studied her reflection carefully. In just over twelve hours, Brenda knew she'd be wearing this dress and committing herself to becoming "Mrs. Stuart Carson."

"Mrs. Stuart Carson," she echoed aloud to herself. She felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her.

She loved Stuart, she did. And she thought she wanted to marry him. The past few weeks had been wonderful, she couldn't deny that. Stuart knew how to wine and dine a girl, and he wasn't abject to spoiling her. She knew it would be a very easy lifestyle to get used to.

At the same time, Brenda wasn't sure she wanted the life of a socialite. She didn't want to be like Mrs. Carson, she knew that. Organizing fundraisers and galas and attending garden parties was definitely not her scene. She hadn't even made it through rush week, and watching Kelly and Donna fulfill sorority commitments, she knew she had made the right choice.

When Brenda had made the decision to withdraw from the University of Minnesota and return home to Beverly Hills, she had been undecided about the direction in which she wanted to take her life. Enrolling in California University was not a certainty. Brenda wasn't convinced a traditional college was the right fit for her. Fact was, more and more she had recently found herself thinking about acting. It wasn't something she had been a part of in high school, unless you counted that summer acting class that she had attended with Andrea and Donna. But she had enjoyed it as a girl, trying out for every school play from 3rd grade through freshman year of high school. There were plenty of good acting schools in the area, she knew, especially with the proximity to Hollywood, but a tiny part of her had a secret decision to head off to New York and try her luck at NYU. Being close to Broadway was a bigger dream for her than any bit part in a B-movie. An even bigger stretch would be the Royal Academy of the Dramatic Arts in London. Brenda had quietly done a bit of research on their extremely tough program, and she had been dismayed to learn very few spots were filled without personal recommendation.

The ringing of the doorbell snapped her from her reverie. She sighed and tossed the dress onto the bed, racing from her room and down the stairs.

"Yes?" She opened the door to find a deliveryman standing on the front steps.

"Delivery for Mrs. Stuart Carson," the man announced.

"I guess that would technically be me," she smiled faintly. The man thrust a large slender box towards her and held out a clipboard with a pen dangling from it.

"Sign here," he ordered, gesturing to an "X" in the center of the sheet. Brenda carefully balanced the box on her right knee as she leaned down to carelessly scrawl her name. The deliveryman looked down at the sheet and drew his brow quizzically.

"Thought you said you were Mrs. Stuart Carson," he asked. She smiled apologetically.

"I am. Well, I will be in a few hours," she corrected herself. "Sorry. I'm going to have to get used to signing a new name, I guess." The deliveryman grinned.

"You'll get used to it in no time. My missus did. Both times," he winked and tipped his hat to her. "Have a nice one, young lady."

"Thanks," Brenda replied absently, closing the door behind her. She set the box down on the staircase and sat down, sliding her finger under the envelope that accompanied the box. Pulling the little card out, she began to read.

"_Just a little pre-wedding thinking-of-you reminder. I'll see you in an hour. –S."_

Brenda lifted the lid off the box and gasped at the massive pile of red long-stemmed roses nestled among clouds of baby's breath. There must have been three dozen roses in the box. Glancing at the clock in the main hall, she deduced that Stuart must have timed the delivery impeccably, as he was due to pick her up at 11 a.m. to head to the airport, and it was just now one minute before ten.

She stood and grabbed the box, heading towards the kitchen to find a vase in which she could arrange the flowers. Rummaging in the cabinet to the left of the dishwasher, where she knew her mother kept a collection of vases, she located one large enough to fit the blooms. She filled it with water and slowly began to place the roses in the vase. When she was satisfied, she carried them to the kitchen table and placed them directly in the center. Her mother might as well enjoy them, she mused, heading back upstairs to resume packing.

After all, the clock was ticking.

***

Brandon sighed and peeked down at his watch again. Shaking his head, he took a sip from the coffee he had bought from the student center kiosk and scanned the crowd. D'Shawn would be easy to spot, but as usual, the basketball phenom was late. Brandon had thought he was being generous, heading to campus two hours before his first scheduled class, in order to squeeze in an extra session for D'Shawn, given the test later that morning in Professor Randall's class. He knew D'Shawn would need every last minute cramming that he could get.

"When are you not up early?" Brandon looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and found Kelly smiling down at him.

"Today it's temporary insanity, I must confess," he sighed. "Have a seat," he offered.

"So why are you so crazy this morning?" she asked as she settled into the chair next to him, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"My first class isn't til 11. It's Professor Randall's class, as a matter of fact, and we happen to have a pretty big exam today. So I thought I'd give D'Shawn a last minute cram session, and I got here two hours early to accommodate him."

"Always Mr. Nice Guy," Kelly grinned. Brandon nodded.

"Yeah, a lot of good it does me though. As usual, he's late, and I'm sitting here drinking bad coffee when I could have slept in."

"I can keep you company," she shrugged.

"Now who's the nice one?" he teased. "Don't you have a class?" Kelly shook her head.

"I had a nine-thirty, but I got here, and there was a note on the door that the class was canceled. I was actually heading back to my apartment when I saw you sitting here."

"Well, don't let me keep you," he replied. "I'd rather be home too."

"I can give you a few moments of my time," she assured him. "What's your test on?"

"Three chapters, mostly functionalism and social conflict."

"Fascinating," she joked. "I had a midterm yesterday on Skinner, Pavlov and behavioralism."

"Isn't it a little late in the semester for a midterm?" he asked. "I mean, winter break is only about six weeks away." Kelly nodded.

"The professor is an adjunct, and she had been out for some surgery or something. With no teaching assistant, we basically had no class for three weeks, but we were still responsible for the reading and assignments. She came back last week and had the midterm prepared for yesterday. It's been a bit bizarre."

"Sounds like it," he agreed.

"Let's not talk school," Kelly leaned forward, her elbows resting on the edge of the table. Brandon took another sip of coffee.

"Okay, what should we talk about then?"

"I don't know," she replied, slowly licking her lips. Brandon knew she was doing it pensively and not seductively, but he couldn't help following her tongue with his eyes. Some girls could just manage to be sexy without even trying, he mused to himself. She coughed lightly and played with the clasp on her necklace. "Why do you think Dylan didn't show up to Brenda's party on Saturday?" He remembered he was the only one, other than Brenda and Stuart, who knew that Dylan, indeed, had shown up and made quite a scene.

"Aren't you always the one who says you don't want to talk about Dylan?" he reminded her. She nodded.

"Yeah," she answered quietly. Brandon heard the edge of uncertainty in her voice.

"Kel, do you want to talk about Dylan?" he asked gently.

"I never know what I want when it comes to Dylan McKay anymore," she whispered, locking her eyes on his.

"I thought I might find you here." Brandon broke eye contact with Kelly and glanced up to see Professor Randall standing by the table.

"Professor Randall, hi," he said, surprised.

"I'm not interrupting anything?" Professor Randall asked, though it wasn't really a question. "D'Shawn told me you'd be waiting here." Brandon heaved a sigh.

"You talked to D'Shawn," Brandon stated. "Let me guess, he's not going to be joining me this morning."

"Good guess," Randall replied. "Something came up, and D'Shawn has arranged to take his test tomorrow afternoon. I gave him some study guides, and so you're off the hook for your weekly session." Brandon wished he could say he was surprised by this tidbit of information, but he wasn't. He knew it would do him no good to voice his feelings to Professor Randall, so he swallowed his pride and nodded.

"Okay," he answered simply. Randall smiled.

"Good. Well, I guess I'll see you in a few hours then, Brandon."

"Yeah, you will," Brandon murmured, watching Professor Randall retreat across the student union, no doubt heading back to his office. He turned his attention back to Kelly. "And that, Kel, is why I don't know why I even bother with this assignment. I'm supposed to be tutoring D'Shawn to ensure he is held to the same requirements that the rest of us in Randall's class are, and it's pointless. He gets special treatment, and Randall knows it." He shook his head in disbelief.

"You know what I think?" Kelly piped up. "I think Professor Randall needs you to make things appear legit. He doesn't really care if D'Shawn is doing things fairly."

"You're probably right," he sighed. "I'd bet those study guides are cleverly disguised crib notes." Kelly reached over and patted his arm reassuringly.

"Don't dwell on it Brandon. You can't worry about the wrong things other people do, as long as you stand by your morals." He smiled at her. Somehow, she knew the right thing to say and managed to say it without mincing words.

"Thanks, Kel." He looked down at his watch. "But you don't mind if I cut our chat a little short, do you? Now that I know D'Shawn isn't coming, I actually think I'm going to run home for a bit rather than hang around here. I've got two hours before my test." Kelly nodded and grabbed her bag, rising to her feet.

"Can't say I blame you," she smiled. "Good luck on your test. Not that Brandon Walsh ever needs luck on anything," she teased. Brandon picked up his own bag, shoved the sociology textbook inside and tossed the empty coffee cup into a trash can just beyond where Kelly was standing.

"You can never have enough luck," he corrected her. She flashed him a smile and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Bye Brandon."

"Wait, don't nice guys usually walk girls to their cars?"

"I'm in the west parking lot," she replied, holding his gaze with her eyes.

"Oh. I parked over by Grant Hall, figuring that's where I'd eventually be leaving from, after Randall's class."

"Don't worry about me, Brandon," she told him. "But thanks for the offer. They just don't make guys like you anymore." Brandon coughed and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with her words of praise. She gave him a little wave, and he continued following her with his eyes as she made her way through the maze of tables in the student center and headed for the west entrance. Once he could no longer see her, he slung his backpack over his right shoulder and headed towards the back of the student center, beginning the walk across campus to the large lot behind Grant Hall where he had parked his Mustang.

It really did irritate the hell out of him the way D'Shawn so cavalierly blew off tutoring, his classes, even tests. He knew a large part of it was the mentality that was almost granted to student athletes once they committed to a college or university, and D'Shawn wasn't entirely to blame for the culture being promoted. What Brandon found himself objecting to was his own role as a pawn in the grand scheme of things. Because he was just that, he knew: a pawn. He was needed, as Kelly said, to keep up appearances that D'Shawn was being held responsible for passing an entry-level sociology course, when in fact, he was being handed a cake walk.

He reached his car and tossed his backpack into the rear seat, hopping over the driver side door to settle in his seat in his preferred method of entry. He grabbed his sunglasses from the console and revved the engine to life, checking the rearview mirror before throwing the car into reverse and guiding the car out of its parking spot. He navigated through the rows of cars until he made a left out of the university and began the short drive back to the Walsh house.

Brandon wasn't surprised to find his thoughts drifting back to Kelly Taylor as he cruised along the freeway. What did surprise him was the change in how he was suddenly seeing her. He wished, in a way, Professor Randall hadn't interrupted them. He wondered if Kelly would have opened up to him about her feelings about Dylan McKay.

***

Brenda zipped the suitcase closed with a triumphant smile, noting the clock read 10:26. She had managed to pack the few clothes that she needed, gather her toiletries, carefully get her dress into the garment bag in which it came, and double check everything-twice. She slung the garment bag over her shoulder and dropped the suitcase to the floor, nudging it gently with her foot to get it upright. She wheeled it down the hallway, picking it up by the handle when she got to the top of the staircase.

No sooner had she made it to the bottom of the stairs and set the suitcase on the hall floor than she heard the door in the kitchen opening. She froze. No one was supposed to be here this morning. Her father was at the office, and her mother and Brandon both had morning classes. She held her breath and hoped it had been her imagination.

No such luck. Brandon walked into the hallway and stopped short when he saw his sister.

"Hey Bren," he said casually, his eyes wandering to the suitcase at her feet, which Brenda was kicking nervously. He raised an eyebrow at his twin and leaned against the wall. "Where you going?"

"Don't worry about it Brandon," she replied absently. "Just taking some things to Stuart's." Brandon snorted in disbelief.

"Sure, taking some things to Stuart's. What's in the bag?" He gestured to the cream-colored garment bag that Brenda had draped over the banister.

"Uh, a dress," she answered cryptically. Brandon stepped towards her and crossed his arms.

"Brenda, I can read you like a book. What's the deal? What are you hiding?"

"Nothing, Brandon!" she shrieked. "God, can't a girl take some things to her boyfriend's house."

"A girl can. You can't. You're up to something, I know it." Brenda tossed her head and began to push past her brother, attempting to head towards the kitchen. Brandon seized her by the upper arm, not hard enough to hurt her, but firmly enough to stop her in her tracks. "Talk to me," he prodded, his voice gentle and coaxing. He released his grip, and Brenda threw her arms up in the air.

"If I tell you, you cannot breathe a word, not a word, of this to Mom and Dad," she hissed, her voice low and deliberate. Brandon shook his head.

"Bren, what are you doing?"

"Promise me, Brandon," she repeated, her eyes flashing defiantly. Brandon sighed and nodded slowly.

"You have my word." Brenda took a deep breath and met her brother's eyes.

"Stuart and I are going to Las Vegas. We're getting married tonight," she declared, bracing herself for Brandon's reaction. She watched him process the information, knowing a thousand things were probably running through his head at that moment.

"You're crazy," he replied matter-of-factly. It wasn't the reaction Brenda had expected, but she launched into her own self-defense nonetheless.

"We know what we're doing," she began. "Stuart and I love each other, and we realized we don't need a big fancy wedding, although both Mom and his mom are probably going to flip out when they learn what we did and they're probably gonna insist on another ceremony or something so they can have a reception and…" Brandon held his hand up to cut her off.

"I actually don't want to hear it, Bren," he told her. "I only swung by here to grab some things so I can go work out after my test in Randall's class, which starts in 25 minutes. So I'm going to do the brotherly thing here and be supportive of you," he added. Brenda's eyes widened.

"You are?" she squeaked. Brandon nodded.

"You're not the same stupid 16-year old girl who capriciously ran off to Mexico with Dylan McKay. You're a big girl now, and you can make your own mistakes."

"Thanks…I think," she replied slowly.

"If marrying Stuart is what you're set on doing, I know better than anyone that no one is going to stop you. When Brenda Walsh sets out to do something, she usually does it."

"Yeah, I do," she agreed, still stunned that her brother wasn't laying into her at the moment.

"And while I don't like Stuart, I'll do the best I can to tolerate him as long as you're with him."

"Which is going to be forever, Brandon," Brenda reminded him. "Marriage is forever." Brandon patted her on the shoulder and walked past her towards the staircase.

"Sure it is, Bren." She watched him bound up the steps two at a time as she tried to process if his last comment was sarcasm or not.

She let out a sigh of relief. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing that Brandon had found out. She felt better knowing someone else knew her plans, and she did trust her brother when he said that he wouldn't tell Mom and Dad.

One less weight lifted from her chest before that night changed her life forever, she smiled.

***

Brandon grabbed his gym bag quickly and raced to his bed, hastily picking up the phone and punching in the digits in rapid succession.

"Please be home, please be home," he muttered aloud to himself, surprised the phone number was so instantaneously available in his working memory. It rang once…twice…three times…

"Hello?"

"Kelly, thank God," he breathed.

"Brandon?" she asked, an edge of uncertainty in her voice.

"Yeah."

"Why are you whispering?" she asked.

"I've got to talk fast," he replied.

"Don't you have a test to take?"

"Yes," he said, impatience creeping into his voice. "Listen, Kel, I have to go, so this has to be quick. Can you meet me in the student center around noon? Randall's test should only take me an hour, and we can leave as soon as we finish."

"Sure, I guess. Brandon, what's wrong?" she wondered, clearly sounding concerned now.

"I'll explain it all to you when I see you. Nobody's hurt, nobody's in trouble, well, not really. I promise, Kel, I just need to talk to you. I've got to go."

"Okay," she agreed. "See you at noon." Without even saying goodbye, he replaced the phone on the cradle and dashed down the hall. Sprinting down the stairs, he noticed Brenda was still standing where he had left her.

"Alright, well, wish me luck on my test." Brenda shook her head at him.

"You're really happy for me?" Brandon nodded, leaning forward to give his sister a quick peck on the cheek.

"If you're happy, I'm happy," he declared. "Gotta go."

"And you _swear_ you're not going to tell Mom and Dad?" She raced to the open door and called after him

"I swear!" he yelled back. "Good luck, Bren. Love you." Brenda heard the engine turn over and returned the little wave Brandon gave her as he backed out of the driveway and tore off down Hillcrest Drive. She pulled the door closed behind her.

All that was left to do was wait.


	10. Leaving on a Jet Plane

_**Author's Note: **_Just an FYI: I have the next two chapters done, but this time, I _am_ holding them hostage. Evil, yes. Cruel, maybe.

The way I see this, as much as I could then keep rewriting this season, I'm going to have to wrap up this story within a few more chapters. Perhaps I'll do another AU piece, maybe go further back to high school. I have a point-of-view one-shot piece done as well, and I have the general framework for Baby Love written. I just need the motivation.

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**Chapter 10: Leaving On a Jet Plane**

"Comfortable?"

"Yeah, very," Brenda replied, nestling her body against the plush seat and laying back against the head rest.

"Once you fly first-class, you can never go back," Stuart declared, reaching up to adjust the air flow coming from the nozzle above his seat. "But don't worry, my dear, you won't have to." He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, but quickly drew back when a stewardess passed by their row. "Could I get a Jack Daniels straight? Brenda, honey, you want something?"

"Oh, I don't know, Stuart," she began. He waved his hand absently.

"We should be celebrating. Get a drink!" he ordered playfully.

"Um, can I get a vodka and orange juice?" she asked tentatively.

"Absolutely," the stewardess, whose name tag read "Heather," replied with a forced smile. "IDs?"

"Excuse me?" Stuart balked.

"I need to see your identification, sir," she repeated. "Airline policy. We're held to the same standards as a bar when it comes to serving alcohol."

"Yeah, cause I'm sure lots of underage kids can fly first-class," he snorted. She gave him another tight-lipped smile.

"You'd be surprised," she answered dryly. "Do you have identification?" Stuart rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. He flipped open the wallet and flashed his driver's license sardonically in front of the woman's face. She nodded and turned her attention towards Brenda.

"I'll have a Coke," Brenda replied meekly. "I don't have identification with me," she lied.

"Very well." And the stewardess walked to the front of the first-class cabin where the drinks were stationed. Stuart sighed and took Brenda's right hand in his. He brought it to his lips and kissed it gently.

"I could have gotten you a drink if you really wanted it," he suggested. "I have my ways."

"It wasn't worth it, Stuart. Don't worry about it," she said, glancing out the window.

"We should be taking off soon," he pointed out. She nodded. "You're awfully quiet."

"I'm just thinking, that's all," she hedged. And she was. She couldn't _stop_ thinking about how Brandon had reacted to her news. Or how he hadn't reacted, really. She knew she had done some impulsive things over the years, and Brandon was usually the one who had to pick up the pieces where their parents were concerned. But she had figured that eloping to Las Vegas would easily top the list of the craziest things she had done, and she had full expected Brandon to read her the riot act when she came face to face with him in the entry hall.

And he had done nothing. He had been…supportive. She was still puzzled by it, and it had consumed her thoughts since Stuart had rang the doorbell and whisked her off to the airport.

"You think our mothers are going to be mad when they realize they've missed out on the big wedding?" Stuart interrupted her quiet reflection.

"Oh, probably," she nodded in agreement. "I think my mom is going to be just plain mad, and it'll have nothing to do with not planning a wedding. And my dad is going to hit the roof. They'll probably hear him screaming all the way back in Minnesota."

"And you didn't tell anyone, right?" Stuart prompted. Brenda twisted the large diamond ring resting on the fourth finger of her left hand. "Bren?"

"I didn't tell anyone. But as I was waiting for you, my brother stopped home, and he figured out something was up. I had to tell him," she confessed. Stuart's brow dipped, and his expression clouded over.

"He won't ruin this for us, will he?"

"No, no," Brenda replied, shaking her head. "He promised me. And he was strangely cool about the whole thing. I mean, Brandon's so level-headed, I had really expected the worse when I saw him."

"Well, good. Ah, thank you, very much," he announced, taking his drink from the stewardess, who had returned.

"Miss, here you go." Brenda accepted her soda with a smile and a quiet 'thank you.'

"If you say you trust your brother, I believe you," he reached over and squeezed her hand. "I just don't want anything to stop this wedding, you know? I can't wait to make you my wife." He took her chin in his hand and guided her lips towards his, catching her in a heated embrace. Brenda responded, though she was surprised to find her heart just didn't seem into it. _What is wrong with you?_ she chided herself. _Snap out of it. _

"I think I'm going to use the restroom before we take off," she murmured, breaking the kiss. Stuart wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Maybe I should join you. I've always wanted to become a member of the Mile-High Club." Brenda stood and shook her head, letting out a soft laugh.

"You actually have to be off the ground to do that, Stuart," she indicated. Stuart chuckled and took a long sip of his drink.

"Touche, my love." He patted her rear end as she stepped past him. "Hurry back."

Brenda heard the captain's voice come over the loudspeaker as she was sliding the "occupied" latch across the bathroom door. She sighed, knowing she only had a few moments of privacy before one of the flight attendants would notice the restroom wasn't vacant and would order her back to her seat for take-off. She placed her hands against the metal sink, bracing her body with the weight of her upper arms. She looked up and caught her reflection in the tiny mirror.

"What am I doing?" she whispered.

***

Brandon walked briskly towards the main building that housed the student union, feeling good about the test he hoped he had just aced, but at the same time, anxious to deal with the other problem that had caught him off-guard that morning.

What the hell was his sister doing? Brenda had done some downright stupid things in her life, and he had served as witness to most of them. But running off to Las Vegas to elope with Stuart Carson…that bordered on insanity.

He had surprised himself with the calm approach he had taken at Brenda's revelation. He knew Brenda well enough to know his demeanor had to have thrown her. He also knew it would plant just enough doubt in her head to maybe buy him the time he needed to do what he knew he had to do.

And he had to stop this wedding.

Brandon spotted Kelly seated alone at table near the far end of the student center. She was twirling a straw in a cup absentmindedly and staring off in the distance. He quickened his pace and made his way towards her.

"Kelly!" he called as he approached her, a relieved smile spreading onto his face. She looked up, and he saw the concern etched onto her own expression. She rose to her feet just as he reached her.

"Brandon, what's wrong? You have me a little freaked out here, I'm not going to lie." He nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back down into her seat, settling his own frame into the chair directly next to hers.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you upset," he replied, regretting that he hadn't said more reassuring things on the phone. He hated to think she had been sitting in a panic for the better part of the last hour. "But you were the only one I could think to call."

"Me?" She looked surprised. He smiled crookedly.

"Yeah, well, I took a little bit of liberty with a promise I made."

"Brandon, please tell me what's going on," she pleaded.

"Okay, Kel, it's like this. My sister…your friend…our dear, crazy Brenda, has decided to up and head to Las Vegas to marry Stuart Carson. Tonight," he divulged, observing Kelly as the shock crept onto her face and her china-blue eyes widened more each second.

"Oh my God," she sputtered, covering her gaping mouth with a hand. "She did _not_!" she exclaimed in disbelief. Brandon nodded.

"I know," he lamented.

"What is she thinking?" Kelly said, shaking her head.

"I wish I knew," he laughed bitterly. "But there are so many things wrong with this, Kel, and I'm not even sure what the worst part is."

"Lying to friends and family is a start," she offered. He sighed.

"Kel, I need to tell you something," he murmured, making the split-second decision to tell her about Dylan's appearance at the engagement party. "And I'm not sure if it's going to upset you or not, but…" he trailed off. Kelly's brow contorted in confusion.

"If it has anything to do with Brenda's temporary insanity, you should just tell me. We've got to figure out what to do about this, Brandon," she declared quietly.

"I know some things about Stuart Carson, things that really make me worry about my sister tying the knot with him. And most of what I know came courtesy of Dylan."

"Dylan," Kelly echoed, an empty ring to it. "Yeah, Dylan had some choice things to say about Stuart as soon as Brenda introduced him to us all. Right before we…broke up…" At the words "broke up," Brandon noticed she had paused and took a minute before choosing that phrase. "Well," she continued, "Dylan told me that when he knew Stuart back in high school, Stuart wasn't exactly the cleanest guy, and his hands were dipping pretty deep in the drug scene."

"Yeah, he told me that too. And I tried to give Stuart the benefit of the doubt, saying time can change people, and people grow up, but there was still something nagging me about the guy."

"Some people just come across as assholes, and time does nothing but make them worse," she proffered. "Take John Sears, for example." She gritted her teeth and made a face. "You're a pretty good judge of character, Brandon. If you've got a bad feeling about someone, I'd believe that something isn't right." She paused again. "Why did you think I'd be mad about Dylan sharing some information?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "I guess I just don't know how you feel about Dylan right now, or the fact he continues to push at how wrong Stuart is for Brenda."

"Did you think I'd be jealous?" she asked softly. He looked away, not sure how much he should say or how far he should press the issue.

"Maybe," he replied. "I also think you should know that Dylan did show up to the party the other night." Kelly drew in a breath, clearly surprised by this revelation.

"Really," she murmured, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. She began to fiddle with the straw in her drink again. "Why didn't he grace any of the rest of us with his presence?"

"I overheard him arguing with Stuart in the lobby. Brenda was there too. He had gotten some kind of evidence about a prenuptial agreement, and Stuart went ballistic. Apparently it had been a point of contention between Stuart and Brenda, and somehow, Dylan knew it. Once he had made his announcement, he said something about his job being done, and he left." He studied Kelly carefully as he explained what had happened, but her expression was impossible to read. She suddenly straightened her shoulders and exhaled deeply.

"Well, Dylan can do whatever he pleases right now," she replied. "We're not exclusive anymore. I wouldn't even know if we're even really seeing each other right now, Brandon, and I'm not sure I care," she sighed again. "I spend a lot of time and energy worrying about Dylan McKay, and I'm beginning to wonder if I'm wasting my time."

"Kel, I didn't mean…" Brandon began.

"We're going to need him though ," she said softly.

"I thought you might say that," he replied.

"He's the only one who even has a remote chance of stopping her," she continued. "If I tried…if you tried…if your parents tried…"

"My parents can't know. That was the promise I made to Brenda. And I'll keep that promise." He paused. "Do you want me to talk to Dylan?" She bit her lip again and pushed her hair back, kneading her scalp with her fingertips.

"I'll talk to him," she murmured. "Do you think we should tell anyone else?"

"What do you think?" he asked, leaning towards her. She shrugged.

"If we're not successful in stopping this insanity, don't you think she'd at least be happy to have her friends there?" she suggested. Brandon nodded.

"Good point. Alright, well, I guess we're going to Vegas."

"Not exactly how I thought I'd first be seeing Sin City," she mused quietly. Brandon chuckled.

"I know," he agreed. "Well, I guess I'll start with Steve."

"I'll tell David and Donna when I go home to grab a few things," she offered. "I guess we're going to have to stay the night?"

"I can't see flying there and flying right back, can you? Do you have class tomorrow?" She shook her head.

"I don't think most people do," she reminded him. "Mostly just the seminars on Wednesdays, since classes tend to be Monday/Thursday and Tuesday/Friday."

"Yeah, I don't have class either. So we might as well stay the night. I guess we wait and see who's going before anyone buys plane tickets or books rooms," he replied. "But we need to get moving. I don't know how many flights will run to Vegas between now and this evening. Brenda looked ready to leave for the airport when I saw her, so my guess is she and Stuart had a flight leaving right about now."

"We can worry about rooms when we get there," she pointed out. "It's Vegas. There will be someplace with rooms." She stood and pushed in her chair. "I'll go by Dylan's house, then I'll head back to my place. I'll give you a call when I get there, and we can figure out where to go from there."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed. He reached over and grabbed Kelly's hand. "Thanks, Kel."

"Anything for you, Brandon," she replied softly, locking her eyes on his.

"You mean Brenda?" he corrected her gently.

"Maybe," she answered, turning and walking away. Brandon raked a hand through his hair absently, checking his watch as he returned his hand to his side. He was going to have to move quickly if he was going to pull this off.

He would have the flight to Vegas to consider the utterly confusing feelings he was starting to have for Kelly Taylor.

***

"Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten-seatbelt sign, indicating the start of our descent into McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. We ask at this time that you return to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and remain seated for the duration of the flight. Current temperature in Las Vegas is a balmy 87 degrees, and we should be on the ground shortly." Brenda stared out the window as the flight attendant's announcement came to a close. The reds and beiges and rust-tones of the desert blended into one shimmering gold sea from the sky, and the shadows from the mountains in the east cast spidery fingers across the barren landscape.

"Such an easy little flight," Stuart nudged her with his elbow. "Not even an hour, and you're at paradise's doorstep." Brenda looked back out the window and rolled her eyes. She knew Las Vegas was a hedonist's pleasure dome, but paradise wasn't usually the word she'd associate with casinos and nightclubs. Hawaii…Palm Springs…Mexico…now those were paradises.

She found herself thinking about those few days she had spent in Mexico with Dylan what seemed like so long ago. The little resort he frequented in Baja was still vivid in her mind's eye. She reminisced wistfully at how blissfully happy they had been when it was just the two of them and the outside world had disappeared.

She knew she and Dylan had never had a conventional relationship. It had been a good one, though, at least by her accounts, and she had mostly fond memories of the time that she and Dylan had dated. He had really been the first guy she had ever truly loved, and from what they said, that kind of love stayed with you forever. Brenda believed that, and she decided that there was a part of her that would always love Dylan McKay, no matter who else was by her side.

Brenda often found herself wondering what might have been if she had never taken that trip to Paris the summer before senior year. Would she and Dylan have made it, in spite of her father's opposition? Would they have survived the rest of high school, or would they have broken up down the road anyway? Would Dylan have fallen for Kelly regardless?

Somehow, Brenda decided that it would have been far more painful to have lost him to her best friend right in front of her face, and she knew it was easier to blame the nearly six-thousand miles separating them that summer. But it still irritated her that she was never completely sure how the two of them had gotten together and betrayed her in the first place. She wanted to believe that things would have been different if she had never left, that if Kelly had been the one to make a play for Dylan, she never would have done so with Brenda right there. Consequently, she also wanted to think if Dylan had pursued Kelly, he wouldn't have given her a second look if Brenda had been nearby.

Still, the pain had never completely gone away.

She wasn't surprised that Dylan and Kelly had had their ups and downs; they just never really seemed to fit in her opinion, and that wasn't her jealousy talking. She wouldn't deny her friend was beautiful, and most guys would have been instantly attracted to her, but Dylan had always sworn to Brenda that he cared more about what was beneath the surface than what was on the outside. So she liked to think it had to have been more than just physical beauty that had drawn Dylan to Kelly. That had at least done a little to ease Brenda's own insecurities that he had just stopped being attracted her when tempted by Kelly.

"Brenda?"

"Hmm?" she murmured.

"You've been daydreaming for, like ten minutes. We landed just a minute ago." Brenda flushed slightly, chiding herself silently for getting so caught up in her memories she hadn't even noticed the plane touching down.

"Oh," she replied meekly. Stuart laughed and unfastened his seat belt.

"I guess you've got a lot on your mind," he joked.

"You could say that," she replied vaguely.

"It's only natural," he added. "It is your wedding day."

"Yeah, it is," she echoed.

"Well, I've got a driver waiting for us once we taxi and arrive at the gate. Having just carry-on luggage is good, since we can skip the damn baggage claim," he said. "And I figured we'd have the car take us right to the hotel, and we can put our things in our suite, and maybe relax or just walk around the casino for a bit. I don't think it will be too hard to find a suitable wedding chapel later tonight." He paused. "Unless you just want to all out take the plunge right away?" he added quickly. Her chest tightened at the suggestion, and she shook her head slowly.

"No, getting settled and relaxing for a bit sounds great." Stuart smiled brightly.

"Okay." He leaned down and kissed the top of Brenda's head. "We'll make tonight a night to remember, then."

"Absolutely," she whispered.

***

Kelly took a deep breath and knocked on Dylan's door. She shifted nervously on the porch, not sure why she was so anxious about talking to a guy she had been sharing a bed with as recently as two weeks ago.

"Yeah," Dylan swung open the door, and she saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes as they settled on her. "Kel. Surprise, surprise."

"Hi," she replied smoothly. "We need to talk." She raised an eyebrow at him and waited for him to invite her in. He leaned against the doorframe and placed a hand on the wall.

"We always need to talk, don't we? What is it this time?"

"Dylan, this isn't a time for you to be facetious with me. Can I please come in?" She clenched her fists tightly and then unfurled them just as quickly, trying to keep her rising annoyance in check. He waved his arm in an exaggerated gesture.

"Suit yourself," he answered. Kelly rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "What's the occasion?"

"Thought you might be interested in knowing that at this moment, Brenda is on a plane to Las Vegas with the intention of marrying Stuart Carson. Tonight," she emphasized. Dylan's forehead wrinkled in contemplation, and she watched the anger slowly seep into his eyes.

"I told her that scumbag was no good for her!" he yelled. "What the hell is she thinking? How do you know this?"

"Brandon," she replied. "He found her waiting for Stuart to pick her up this morning, and he called me. Said he had promised Brenda he wouldn't tell Mr. and Mrs. Walsh, but he knew he couldn't stand by and let her do this." She licked her lips. "Brandon and I figured you might be the only one who could stop her."

"And why is that?" he snarled. "She hasn't listened to me up to this point."

"Because, Dylan, you and I both know that no matter what happens, Brenda still cares what _you _think. She always has, and she always will. There have never been only two people in our relationship," she added. "She's always been looming there, even when you chose me over her."

"Kelly," he began, exasperated. "I'm not going to do this again. I'm not gonna talk about you, me and Brenda. I did make a choice, and I chose you. And you were the one who decided we should see other people, may I remind you?"

"Dammit, Dylan, this isn't about you and me! This is about Brenda. If you are so convinced Stuart Carson is bad news, you need to get your ass on a plane with Brandon and me and anyone else who's gonna tag along and lay it all out to her. In person."

"And I'm telling you, I've tried twice now to talk some sense into that girl, and she wasn't willing to listen either time."

"Telling Brandon how you felt about Stuart and showing up at a party for a few minutes to cause trouble isn't really _talking_ to Brenda," she pointed out. "I don't think any of us thought she'd do something this impulsive…"

"You didn't?" he snorted. "I could have told you this is what she'd do if she was pushed too far. But I think Stuart is the one doing the pushing, and I don't actually think this is about him. I think she's doing this to prove a point."

"That's a little careless, Dylan. Even Brenda wouldn't be stubborn enough to go as far as to marry someone to prove a point. And to whom?" She watched Dylan's expression change, like a light had gone on and something had dawned on him.

"So you're going to Vegas?" he interjected.

"We…Brandon and I…we were planning on it."

"I'm in. Let's go."

***

Within two hours, Brandon was standing in a terminal at LAX, waiting for his friends to arrive. He had a small duffel bag at his feet, and his eyes were fixed on the arrival and departure screens. Flights to Vegas were plentiful, they had learned, but each subsequent flight out of Los Angeles closed the window a bit tighter as to them arriving in time to put a stop to Brenda and Stuart's wedding. He had already checked in and gotten his boarding pass, and he had deduced that the gate would actually be the most logical place to meet. So he stood, at Gate 12, waiting.

Steve, of course, had been on board the second the word "Vegas" had left Brandon's lips. In fact, Brandon wasn't entirely sure that Steve was as concerned with the true nature of the trip as the rest of them. But it wasn't really something he was going to dwell on at the moment. When they arrived in Vegas, what Steve did was his business. He wouldn't get very far with his fake ID, anyway, Brandon mused.

Donna and David had also decided to go, though Andrea had opted not to. She had told Brandon while she wanted to do her part to support Brenda, whatever that might have been, she was one of the few who did have Wednesday morning class, and it was a three-hour seminar for biology, a prerequisite for all students who eventually wanted to go pre-med. Brandon wished she had been able to come. Andrea was the very voice of reason, and her mere presence made people think a little clearer.

"Brandon!" He spun around at the sound of Kelly's voice and found her walking briskly through the terminal towards where he was standing, Donna and David following closely behind. Donna was dragging a large suitcase behind her. Kelly and David were both carrying small bags over their shoulders. Both Kelly and Donna had clearly dressed to impress, Brandon noticed. Donna's clingy mini-dress left little to the imagination, but Kelly's slinky sundress accented all the right curves without being obvious. Brandon swallowed hard.

"Hey, guys. Thanks for doing this," he said as they finally came to a stop before him.

"It's Vegas," David grinned. "I wouldn't miss it." Kelly smacked him on the shoulder.

"This isn't a pleasure trip, David. We're on a mission," she reminded him.

"Yeah, and if the mission is successful, I'm gonna experience some pleasure. It's stupid not to take advantage. It's Vegas!" he repeated. Kelly caught Brandon's eye and rolled hers for emphasis.

"Bright light city gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire!" Steve's booming voice could be heard halfway down the terminal, his off-key singing announcing his arrival before he came into sight. Kelly shook her head. Steve spotted his friends and quickened his pace, jogging towards them. "Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn, so get those stakes up higher!" He greeted the gang by grabbing Kelly around the waist and twirling her as he continued singing.

"Give it a rest, Elvis," she complained, straightening her dress, smoothing it over her hips. "Why are you guys so chipper? Brenda is planning to get _married_. This is serious!" Steve snorted.

"She's not going to go through with it," he laughed.

"I don't know Steve," Brandon disagreed. "You didn't see the look of sheer determination on her face."

"Brandon's right." They all turned. Dylan had suddenly materialized, nothing more than his boarding pass in his possession. "Brenda is just stubborn enough to do this to prove us all wrong."

"I guess now we wait for the boarding call," Donna suggested. Everyone migrated towards the rows of chairs lining the gate. Brandon nodded towards Dylan.

"Thanks for coming, man. I think if anyone has a chance to talking any sense into Brenda, it's you."

"I'm not planning on talking any sense into her," he replied curtly. Brandon raised an eyebrow cryptically.

"What are you planning on then?" he asked.

"You'll see."

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_Author's Note 2: _Aren't cliffhangers fun? :-P


	11. City of Blinding Lights

**Chapter 11: City of Blinding Lights**

Brandon glanced down at the blonde head resting lightly on his shoulder. Kelly's eyes were closed, and he could hear the gentle rhythm of her breaths as she slept. They had only been in flight for around fifteen minutes; one minute, she had been awake, reading a magazine, and suddenly, the next, the magazine had slid to the floor and her head had drooped towards his shoulder.

"You should just push her off," Dylan spoke up, startling Brandon.

"What?" Brandon replied, meeting his friend's eyes over Kelly's head.

"Kelly. Just nudge her slightly. She'll move," he suggested knowingly. "When we traveled this summer, she was always nodding off."

"She's not bothering me," Brandon commented quietly. Dylan shrugged and turned his attention back to the Sky Mall catalogue.

"Whatever," he answered.

"She had a midterm yesterday. She's probably overtired," Brandon added. Dylan shrugged again.

"Like I said, whatever."

Brandon had wound up with a seat next to Kelly and Dylan as a result of Kelly's insistence that she buy Brandon's ticket. When she had phoned Brandon to tell him that Dylan was indeed on-board for Operation: Stop Brenda, Kelly had mentioned to Brandon that it was just best if she bought all the tickets. He could pay her back later, she insisted. Donna and David were covering her portion of the rent for the next two months to even things out, and it was just better if they could all be guaranteed seats on the 3:05 flight.

Only Steve had balked at Kelly's generosity. When they had arrived at the gate, they all discovered why. Thanks to the use of Rush Sanders's credit card and platinum frequent flier status, Steve had finagled himself a first-class ticket and had given them all a satisfied smirk when the rest had filed past him into coach. He was no doubt sitting in front of that heavy blue curtain, hitting on the flight attendants and trying to sweet talk his way into getting served with free cocktails.

"Is she asleep already?" David leaned around the back of Brandon's chair, a smirk on his face.

"Yeah, why?" Brandon replied. David snickered.

"She can't stay awake for anything lately. Donna and I were watching a movie with her last weekend, and she fell asleep. In the theater!"

"Leave her alone, David. Between school and rushing, she's got a lot on her plate. Not to mention she's watching Erin all the time because your father and Jackie have such busy social lives lately."

"Blame Mel's new girlfriend for that. I don't know Jackie's excuse," David retorted. Suddenly, Kelly sat bolt-upright, her cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink.

"Brandon, I'm so sorry," she stuttered.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled. She brushed her hair away from her forehead and bent down to retrieve her fallen magazine.

"Welcome back to the world of the waking, Sleeping Beauty," Dylan joked, though it didn't sound as playful as teasing should. Kelly shot him a look as she flipped open her magazine and began scanning the page. Brandon shifted in his seat. He could sense the tension between the two of them.

"So," Brandon began. "When we land in Vegas, how do you suggest we go about tracking Brenda down? I've got nothing to go on other than that's their destination."

"I assume they'd have to have secured a marriage license," Kelly stated. "But I don't think that would give us anything other than the city, which we already know. At least, I don't think you have to list the church or chapel on a license."

"You don't," Dylan piped up, not taking his eyes off the catalogue he was still browsing. Brandon glanced sideways at his friend. He was awfully absorbed in that stupid catalogue, and it seemed like an avoidance technique rather than genuine interest. Not that Dylan couldn't have afforded every extravagant gadget in there, but it just wasn't Dylan's style to catalogue-shop.

"I think the only thing we can do is divide up the wedding chapels," Donna called from the row behind Brandon, Kelly and Dylan.

"Yeah, and then how does the person who finds her let the rest of us know?" Dylan replied bluntly. "What we need to do is get to a hotel, book some rooms, get the phone book from the drawer where they always keep it underneath the Bible, and start calling. If they've got a reservation at one of the chapels, they'll be able to tell us."

"Reservation?" Kelly echoed. "What is this, a wedding or dinner out?"

"It's Vegas, a wedding is about as common as a nice dinner out," David replied.

"You all keep saying "It's Vegas" but have any of you actually been there to make these statements?" Dylan asked. No one answered him. "That's what I thought."

"Can you please lose the attitude?" Kelly snapped. "You're not doing anyone any favors being so cold."

"Then don't listen to me," Dylan replied.

Brandon sighed. Never before had an hour passed so slowly.

***

"So this is the nicest chapel I could find," Stuart stated, handing Brenda a brochure.

"Chapel of the Flowers?" Brenda read. He nodded.

"It had the best write-ups and testimonials. Plus it's not too far from here."

"I'm sure there were at least ten other chapels in walking distance from here," she replied dryly. Stuart's brow crinkled.

"You don't like it?"

"No, no," she caught herself, seeing his hurt expression. "I meant, there are so many chapels to choose from, proximity shouldn't have really been a concern, that's all."

"Oh," he nodded. "Okay." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Do you like the suite?"

"It's breathtaking," she agreed, looking around the lavish room again.

"Nothing but the best for my bride-to-be. And Caesar's is the best," he declared.

"You've been to Vegas before?" she asked, realizing she truly didn't know the answer.

"Uh, yeah," he nodded. "I've been here several times. Always stay at Caesar's though. They comp like no other for high rollers."

"I didn't know you like to gamble," she said. Stuart paused, as if he were trying to gauge the appropriate response.

"Uh, well, I wouldn't say I like it. But it's fun to do once in awhile."

"I see." He sure didn't sound sincere, she observed.

"So," he began, changing the subject abruptly. "I called the chapel, and they had three openings. One at 6:15, one at 8:30 and one at 8:45. Take your pick."

"There are that many other people getting married there tonight," she gaped incredulously.

"Bren, do you even know how many people get married here daily? I mean, there are the planned ones like ours, and then there are the random ones where people wake up that morning and decide to do it, and there are the drunken mistakes. Easily a couple hundred a day, and this one is very popular."

"Okay. Well, let's do 6:15," she shrugged.

"Perfect," Stuart beamed. "Then we'll have all night to celebrate." Brenda sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, running an index finger along the satin-jacquard comforter.

"You don't feel at all…I don't know…bad about this?" Stuart stopped, his hand midway into the mini-bar.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" he asked, alarmed.

"No," she replied hastily. "I meant, I guess, you don't feel bad about not telling anyone. I mean, maybe someone would have been happy for us."

"Is that what this is about? Did you really want that big wedding? Bren, we can have a nice reception for our family and friends. Maybe in a few weeks, right around the holidays. I promise." He twisted the cap off a bottle of Heineken and took a long pull off of it.

"Stuart, I told Brandon," she sputtered.

"What?" he frowned. She jumped up off the bed and began to pace.

"I'm sorry. He wasn't supposed to be home this morning, and he took me by surprise! And he was asking all sorts of questions, twin-intuition stuff, you know?"

"Bren, you're babbling," he reprimanded her. "Do you trust your brother?"

"What?"

"Do you trust your brother?" Stuart repeated.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," she affirmed. "And I made him promise not to tell my parents, and he agreed to it. Brandon doesn't break promises."

"Well, then, we have nothing to worry about," he smiled brightly. "Now, should we grab something to eat before our after the ceremony?"

"It doesn't matter," she replied. All of a sudden, she was dwelling on the brief conversation she had had with Brandon a few night's ago. He had been so intent on warning her against Stuart. If her brother was convinced Stuart was not the right guy for her, why had he been so quick to give her his blessing when he learned of the elopement.

Something was not right.

"It's 3:30 now. I guess it's a bit early for dinner," he decided. "So here's what we can do." He placed an arm around Brenda's waist, guiding her back to the edge of the bed, where they both took a seat. Stuart paused to take another drink of his beer. "Why don't we get changed, you know, get ready for the wedding, and we can go have drinks in one of the lounges for a bit, maybe just grab an appetizer or something, until it's time. Then you can pick any restaurant you want and we'll have the fanciest dinner you've ever had to celebrate being Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Carson."

"That sounds fine," Brenda replied meekly. Stuart cocked his head at her and set down his beer bottle on the nightstand.

"Or we could just do some pre-celebrating here right now," he suggested, a wicked glint in his eye. He covered her body with his, and the weight of him pressed her down onto the bed. Brenda found herself resisting, and she pushed him away with some effort.

"I think we should save that for later tonight," she explained, seeing a flicker of anger spark in his eye.

"Fine," he said through clenched teeth, reaching for his beer and draining the rest of it in a long, single swig. Brenda stood and adjusted the hem of her t-shirt, which had crept far up over her navel.

"I guess I'll go change and make myself presentable," she said lightly, trying to play off the abrupt tension in the air.

"Take your time," he replied, sarcasm creeping into his tone. Brenda sighed inwardly and grabbed the garment bag from the opposite side of the bed. She also snatched her cosmetic bag from her suitcase and headed for the bathroom. Her fingers searched the wall for a light switch, and when she finally located it and flicked them on, she gasped at the sheer awesomeness of the bathroom.

"I could live here," she murmured, taking in the marbled floors, the gold fixtures, the ornate carvings on the edge of the tub.

_Or at least hide in here for a bit_, she thought to herself as she peeled her t-shirt from her upper body and shimmied out of her shorts.

With each tick of the clock, her anxiety was rising.

***

The airport shuttle pulled up outside the Mirage, and the driver hopped out to assist with baggage. The gang all gathered their bags and descended the steps to wait on the sidewalk for Donna, who was lugging her suitcase down the stairs of the shuttle. David rolled his eyes and grabbed the large valise from his girlfriend.

"It's one night, Don. You didn't need to pack for a week-long getaway."

"It's just essentials," she retorted. Brandon shook his head in amusement and reached into his pocket to search for a five-dollar bill that he knew was in there in order to tip the driver. But before his fingers could close over the bill, he observed Dylan slap a twenty into the palm of the shuttle driver. The man grunted a thank you and returned to the driver's side of the shuttle and within moments, the vehicle swerved back into the moderate traffic along Las Vegas Boulevard.

"Come on, let's just go inside, get some rooms and get to work," Dylan ordered, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Donna and I aren't sharing a room with any of you, I'm telling you that right now," David announced as they made their way down the palm-lined path to the main lobby of the Mirage.

"Don't hold your breath, David," Kelly snickered. "This may be Vegas, but Donna's not going to just roll over for you because you're in a glitzy city where people act a little stupid." Brandon chuckled at her candor, but Donna's mouth dropped open.

"Kelly!"

"We're still getting our own room, Kelly," David called over his shoulder.

"I'll just get the damn rooms," Dylan muttered.

"In that case, I'll take a penthouse suite," Steve joked. Dylan didn't as much as blink at his comment, and he purposely strode off towards the reception desk.

"Isn't this the hotel with the cute white tigers?" Donna piped up.

"They're not cute when they're mauling your face off," Steve replied.

"The tiger sanctuary is over there," Kelly pointed, indicating a sign.

"David, let's go look," Donna squealed, dragging him by the hand. "Kel, watch our stuff."

"You're awfully quiet," Kelly nudged Brandon gently. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking," he confessed. "What if we can't stop her?" Kelly smiled sympathetically and squeezed his forearm.

"We will," she nodded. "When has Brandon Walsh ever not gotten what he wants?" she teased. He tilted his head and thought for a moment, playing it up for her benefit.

"Well, there was the time I was eight and wanted to play for the Minnesota North Stars," he joked. "Last I checked I was hardly a hockey protégé, and the team is supposedly being relocated to Dallas." She smiled and shook her head.

"Very funny," she replied.

"Are you two laughing at me?" Steve interrupted.

"What if we say yes?" Kelly giggled.

"Not nice, Kel," he pouted playfully.

"You're a big boy, Sanders. Suck it up," Brandon added. Dylan walked back towards them and handed Brandon and Steve each a key.

"That's for your room," he explained. "Where did David and Donna go? I've got one for them too."

"They're looking at the tigers," Kelly replied. "Where's my key?"

"I've got it," he returned. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"We're sharing a room?" she asked.

"Is that a problem, Kel?" Dylan said, exasperated. "Don't get all excited. There are two beds."

"Good," she shot back. Brandon stepped forward to play referee.

"Okay, guys, let's remember why we're here. C'mon. We can go to my room and start making calls."

"It's my room, too!" Steve called.

"Shut up, Steve," Kelly replied, her teeth gritted. She shifted her overnight bag on her shoulder and followed Dylan across the open lobby.

"Shouldn't someone tell Donna and David?" Steve spoke up again. Dylan sighed.

"Yeah, probably. Here." He fished into his pocket, removed a jumble of keys and checked the numbers on them. He tossed one across to Steve. "Give this to them. I'll hold on to the other one. And meet us upstairs in your room." Steve nodded and headed across the lobby, while Brandon, Kelly and Dylan walked the other way towards the elevators. The three rode in silence up to the sixteenth floor. Kelly kept her eyes fixed on the glowing numbers, while Brandon noticed Dylan's eyes firmly locked on his ex-girlfriend. The elevator lurched to a stop, and the doors parted.

"Looks like our rooms are this way," Brandon gestured after scanning the sign outside the elevator. He turned left, and Kelly and Dylan followed. Brandon came to a stop and jammed his key into the lock. Turning slowly, he felt the lock release, and the door swung open. He tossed his bag to the floor and held the door, allowing Kelly to slip inside.

"You coming?" Kelly turned to Dylan, an impatient look on her face.

"I'm going to go to our room and make a few calls," he replied, beginning to walk away. Kelly stuck her head into the hallway. "You'll be the first to know if I find anything, Kel."

"He's a regular charmer to be around today, isn't he?" Kelly marveled bitterly. She let the door slam shut behind her and walked across the room, sliding open the top drawer of the bedside table with ease. Reaching beneath the Bible, she held up the Las Vegas Metro Area phone book. She sat on the edge of the bed on the left, and Brandon wandered over to settle across from her, his fingers poised above the keypad of the telephone.

"Let's get started," Brandon sighed. Kelly nodded and flipped through the pages under she located the yellow pages near the back. She found the pages with ease and called off the first number on the page. Brandon punched it in and listened for the ringing to begin.

"Aaron's Chapel of the Bells?" a bored voice answered. Brandon cleared his throat.

"Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me if you have a couple by the name of Brenda Walsh and Stuart Carson confirmed for a wedding there today?" He met Kelly's eyes, and she looked back at him hopefully.

"One moment," the bored voice droned. A pause. "No. No one by either of those names."

"Thanks," Brandon replied, and the phone clicked without another word from the other end. He pushed the receiver and waited for dial tone. "Next?" he asked. Kelly called off another number, and Brandon repeated the process, waiting briefly to be told that no, there was no couple waiting to be married by those names. Three more numbers, and still no luck.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Kelly hopped off the bed and jogged over to the door, peering through the peephole. She shot Brandon a quick look and swung the door open.

"Got them," Dylan announced, stepping into the room. Brandon sprang to his feet.

"You're kidding," he replied in awe. Dylan shrugged.

"It was just as easy as I suspected it might be. A leopard never changes his spots. Stuart favors Caesar's Palace. Always has, at least when he'd fly out here on Daddy's credit card in high school with his fake ID to do a little wheeling and dealing."

"How do you know that?" Kelly asked suspiciously.

"Not important," Dylan cut her off. "So I called the main desk at Caesar's and asked one of their concierges to give me the names of some wedding chapels nearby, and then I asked her humble opinion as to which was the best. Remember, only the best for Stuart Carson," he smirked. "And bam, that was exactly the chapel that was holding a 6:15 wedding for one Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Carson."

"6:15?" Brandon exclaimed. "That's barely an hour from now."

"Yeah, but lucky for us, it's not far. We wait for Steve and Donna and David, and then we go." Dylan clapped Brandon on the back. "No worries, bro. Brenda's not walking down that aisle. I guarantee it."

***

"You ready? I think it's best we head over to the chapel. Maybe if they have any no-shows, they'll just start our ceremony early." Stuart rummaged through his billfold and slapped a fifty down on the bar. Brenda looked at the empty glass in front of Stuart, his fourth, and stared down at her own glass, sweating beads of condensation from the cocktail she had barely touched.

"Yeah, okay," she nodded, grabbing her clutch from the bar. Stuart smiled and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him tightly.

"You look amazing," he whispered. She smiled half-heartedly.

"You said that already," she replied, adjusting the dress as they began to walk from the lounge.

"Well, get used to it. I'm going to be telling you how beautiful you are for the rest of our lives." They exited the casino floor out onto Las Vegas Boulevard, the setting sun casting spidery shadows from the palm trees onto the sidewalk. He signaled for a cab.

"I thought you said it was a short walk," she pointed out.

"It is," he agreed, opening the door of the cab that had pulled to the curb. "But I'm not letting you walk to your own wedding. It may not be humid out here, but it will still make you break a bit of a sweat. He ushered her into the cab, settling onto the rear seat beside her.

"Where to?" the driver called.

"The Chapel of the Flowers," Stuart replied.

"Do you have the marriage license?" Brenda asked. Stuart nodded and patted the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He kissed her temple.

"I thought of everything, my love. Nothing for you to worry about." Brenda sighed and glanced out the window. The lights were starting to come on along the Strip, and the sun had turned the sky into a smear of purples and reds. As the cab neared the chapel, her heart began to race, and she felt her pulse quicken.

This was really happening.

There was no turning back now.

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_**Author's Note: **_This chapter went according to plan, so no sense in not just posting it now. But Chapter 12 needs fixing, and if you want me to get going on it, you know what to do. There is either going to be a wedding, or no wedding in Chapter 12. I already know the answer, ha ha. And B/K fans, thanks for being patient. You'll get your due.


	12. Stop, in the Name of Love

_**Author's Note: **_Okay, so I might not have had to do too much research on the sights and sounds of Vegas, having been there myself before, but I did indeed have to research marriage and wedding licenses there, since I was never stupid or crazy enough to run off to elope. Nor have I ever set foot in the Chapel of the Flowers; it was only chosen because according to its lovely little website, it is among the best in Vegas and the classiest (is that an oxymoron?). So any inaccuracies are entirely my fault, and I take creative licensing in that. I've also never been to Minnesota, so that memory of Brenda's is also entirely fictional.

This is for Jianna. Like Brandon, I keep my promises. ;) Thank you, my dear.

**Chapter 12: Stop, in the Name of Love**

Brenda was pacing nervously in the waiting area of the Chapel of the Flowers. She chewed her lower lip as her eyes scanned the room, still a little incredulous that she was standing in a chapel in Las Vegas, about to marry a guy she had only known for a few weeks. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, and her stomach was alight with what felt like a swarm of angry bees. She was way past butterflies.

What was the expression? It's always darkest before the dawn? Brenda wrung her hands nervously as she contemplated just how far into the depths she had sunk at the moment, and she wasn't exactly sure this wedding was the "dawn" she was looking for. In fact, she felt as if she was sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss.

Stuart loved her, she did believe that. But now, with the hour of her marriage upon her, she was questioning how much she really did love Stuart. Was it Stuart she loved? Or was it the idea of love again, especially after all she had been through with Dylan. She had to admit to herself that she had not been willing to fully give her heart to anyone since he had left her for Kelly. So when Stuart had come along and so swiftly swept her off her feet, she took the plunge willingly. She just hadn't considered how far down she would have sunk.

"Alright," Stuart had reappeared in front of her, clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together. "The minister has our marriage license, and it'll just be a few more moments. They have a really nice bouquet they'll let you use, and I met the lady who will serve as our witness. She's actually the owner's mother. Sweet old thing." He paused. "Brenda, stop pacing. Did you hear a word I just said?"

"Huh?" Brenda froze in her tracks. Stuart raised an eyebrow at her.

"I asked if you were listening to me," he repeated. Brenda smiled wanly.

"No, sorry, Stuart, I wasn't," she replied honestly. "I was just thinking."

"Brenda, I'm gonna be frank with you. Your behavior since we arrived has me a little freaked out. This is our wedding day, you should be as happy as I am." She sighed.

"I'm sorry, Stuart," she apologized. "I've just got a lot on my mind right now. Please, just understand that even though I want this, it's still all a little surreal. I mean, we are about to get married," she stressed. "And I'm beginning to wonder if we're not treating the whole thing a little too lightly."

"Brenda, marriage is about two people loving each other. It's not about a big fancy party or hundreds of guests or prenuptial agreements or any of that bull. All you really need is two people and a commitment. I think we have that, don't we?" he asked earnestly.

Brenda wandered over to a plush velvet-backed chair and sat down, ignoring the subtle waves of nausea plaguing her. She let Stuart's words settle over her and tried to put her mind at ease. She exhaled a slow, shaky breath and thought back to a random memory from her childhood.

It was late summer, and she could see her family relaxing by Lake Minnetonka with her parents' old friends, the Malones, and their children. Brenda smiled wistfully as she remembered Valerie, her partner-in-crime, as they used to call themselves, and she saw herself and Valerie swimming in the vast lake, treading water close to shore. They were probably around ten at the time. For the past three summers, the girls had been daring each other to climb the largest tree that lined the shore near their lake house, climb to the highest gnarly branch that reached far out over the lake and jump. Neither one had given in to the other's taunts, but this summer, Val had been particularly insistent that Brenda was too chicken to do it. And so with her heart in her throat, Brenda had steadily climbed that old tree, edged herself out onto the surprisingly stable branch, and rose unsteadily to her feet. She remembered looking down at her friend, her head visible bobbing above the surface, a satisfied smirk on her pretty face. Brenda could still visualize the expression as if it were happening right then and there. Val didn't think she'd go through with it.

And Brenda had jumped, screaming the whole way down until her feet broke the surface of the lake and she splashed into the water with a grunt.

She left her memory behind and brought her mind back to present. And still, all she could see was that smirk on Valerie's face, except now it was etched onto the faces of each of her friends, as well as that of her brother's.

None of them thought she'd do it. If they did, she reasoned, one of them would have made a sincere effort to stop the whole crazy thing before she had even boarded the plane back at LAX. Brandon especially.

"Brenda Walsh and Stuart Carson?" a middle-aged woman in a crisp salmon-toned pantsuit appeared at the entryway to the chapel. "We're ready for you now." She smiled warmly.

"Well, Brenda," Stuart started. "To quote Elvis Presley, it's now or never." He steadied a steely gaze on her and set his jaw. "What's it going to be?"

"Let's get married," she replied, standing and pushing past him to head towards the chapel.

"Wonderful," the woman clapped her hands together, her grin spreading. "I'm Wanda Miles, and I'm going to be taking care of your details for you. Reverend McClure is going to perform your ceremony, and as I've told your fiancé here, Ms. Walsh, my mother-in-law is actually our in-house witness here." She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "My husband tries to keep her busy so she stays out of trouble. Bright lights of Vegas can seduce anyone, ya know?" she winked. "Follow me, please."

She led them into a tastefully decorated room, lined with several rows of chairs, with a small altar near the front. "This is where we hold our most intimate ceremonies, like yours, where it's just the bride and groom. We do have a larger chapel near the back for couples who have guests or parties joining them."

"It's lovely," Brenda complimented. And it was, she couldn't deny. It wasn't a big church as she had always imagined herself wed in, but it certainly wasn't the low-class dives she had often pictured Vegas wedding chapels as. Mrs. Miles walked over to a large oak cabinet and swung open the doors, rummaging inside for a moment. She produced two bouquets of silk flowers.

"Now, my dear, you can choose if you'd like traditional roses, or the more varied bouquet like this one here," she offered, gesturing to the one in her left hand that was a mixture of faux lilies, asters and another flower Brenda recognized, but couldn't identify.

"I'll take that one," Brenda pointed to her left hand.

"Good choice. I've always been partial to delphinium myself," Mrs. Miles winked again. "Now, I'm going to ask you, young man, to follow me up to the altar, where you'll wait for your bride. We like to play the traditional wedding march and at least let the ladies take a short walk down the aisle. Every bride deserves that."

"Okay," Stuart replied, giving Brenda a quick grin as he strode purposefully up to the altar. He shook the minister's hand and turned back to face Brenda.

"Dorothy, go ahead," Mrs. Miles called. It was then Brenda noticed the stooped little lady sitting to the far right in the first row of chairs. The old woman leaned to her right and pushed a button, filling the room with the first notes of "The Wedding March." "Okay, Brenda, that's your cue!" Brenda sighed and held the bouquet in front of her, level at her waist. She walked far too quickly, she knew, but then again, the aisle was a mere few yards long.

No sooner had Brenda reached the altar where Stuart and the minister stood then she heard noises rising in the waiting room where she had just been. Voices began to carry into the chapel, and Brenda's heart nearly stopped as they became louder and clearer.

"She's got to be in there." Brenda heard Steve's booming voice first.

"What's going on out there?" Stuart frowned, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

Steve stepped through the threshold first, followed by Brandon, and Brenda saw Donna, David, Kelly and Dylan beyond the two guys.

"Brandon!" Brenda called, feigning irritation, her heart nearly screaming out in relief. "What are you doing here?" Brandon started to answer, but Dylan pushed past and stepped to the forefront of the group.

"You didn't think you were going to marry this idiot without your closest friends as witnesses, did you?"

"I should have known McKay would show up and cause trouble," Stuart sneered.

"Is there a problem?" Mrs. Miles asked in a clipped voice.

"No, no problem," Stuart replied, staring Dylan down.

"That's right, no problem at all," Dylan echoed. "You don't mind, Stuart, if we stay and serve as your witnesses, do you? After all, we all love Brenda. You marry her, you marry us." He took a seat in the front row on the left side of the aisle.

"What the hell is he doing?" Steve hissed to Brandon and Kelly, who were standing beside him.

"I don't know, Steve. He told me to trust him, that no wedding was going to take place," Brandon answered. Steve snorted.

"And you believed him?"

"Dylan's not exactly an open book," Kelly murmured. "Who knows what he's up to?"

"Well, if it's alright with our unexpected guests, we'd like to get the ceremony underway," Mrs. Miles pronounced. "We do have several other weddings to officiate later this evening."

"Yes, let's get going," Stuart agreed, clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth, forcing a smile onto his face while his eyes shot daggers at Dylan. Donna and David seized the moment to walk into the chapel and take two seats in the second row, behind the minister's mother, who was nodding off. Steve shrugged and followed suit, leaving Brandon and Kelly standing in the rear of the chapel.

"You want to have a seat?" Brandon offered softly to her. Kelly shook her head.

"I'm gonna stand, thanks," she replied absently, her gaze fixed on her ex-boyfriend. Brandon nodded and thought about remaining at her side, but opted to take the seat next to Dylan.

"You know," Dylan interrupted. "On second thought, Reverend, you think you could just spring ahead to that part in the vows about the "if anyone objects?" Cause I think that's when things are going to get interesting."

"Dylan, what are you doing?" Brenda frowned. Stuart's eyes were blazing fire now.

"Listen, boys and girls," Mrs. Miles began, her tone now dripping with condescendence. "This is a place of business, one where we take the business of marriage very seriously. If you are going to make a mockery of it, I suggest you find another place to play your little games."

"Get the ceremony under way," Stuart ordered.

"Don't marry him, Bren," Dylan warned. "Don't fall for his nice-little-rich-boy act. If you marry Stuart Carson, you'll regret it." The room fell dangerously silent.

"Dylan, I'm not going to listen to you if this is about your personal vendetta against Stuart. I don't care what kind of history you two have together, or what you have to say about each other." Brenda spoke directly to Dylan, her voice wavering slightly. "If you have something else to say, or something you think I should know, tell me now."

"You'd be nothing but a trophy to him," Dylan pointed out. "Guys like Stuart are all the same. They find themselves a nice girl to keep up appearances, to look pretty on their arm at all the charity balls and business dinners, to be mothers to their children and keep their homes looking immaculate. And all the while, they've got other women on the side, the ones that weren't good enough to be socially beneficial but know all about keeping a guy happy."

"You're treading on thin ice, buddy," Stuart snarled. But Dylan ignored the threats and kept talking, all eyes in the room watching him, all ears listening to every word.

"You deserve so much more than being Mrs. Stuart Carson, Brenda," Dylan stated. "Don't do this." Brenda shook her head, glancing rapidly between her ex-boyfriend and her husband-to-be, taking in Dylan's stoic expression compared to Stuart's seething one.

"I…" she began to stutter. "I don't know what to think."

"Don't listen to him, Brenda. I love you. He's insane. I'd never do anything like that to you," Stuart pleaded. Brenda searched his expression, desperately looking for sincerity in his eyes.

She couldn't see any.

"Are we supposed to say anything?" Steve whispered hoarsely to Brandon, who craned his neck back over his chair to listen. He shrugged.

"I don't think so," Brandon replied, sneaking a quick glance at Kelly, who was still standing silently in the back of the chapel, fingers fiddling with one of the tiny straps of her dress.

"Dylan, I'm tired of being alone," Brenda confided, taking a step towards where he stood. "It took a long time for me to let anyone get close to me after what you did to me. Do you even know how badly you and Kelly hurt me? For awhile I thought I might never get over you." She couldn't hold back her emotions any longer; being face to face with Dylan and the overwhelming intensity of the whole situation had consumed her. "And Stuart finally gave me a glimmer of hope that I was worthy of being loved again." Dylan stifled a guffaw.

"He doesn't know the first thing about loving anyone other than himself," Dylan spat. "Love isn't about who can take you to fancy restaurants and deliver big bouquets of flowers that are going to wither and die in a few days anyway. Or about who can buy you the biggest engagement ring."

"This is better than those stupid soap operas you tape when you go to class," David nudged Donna.

"Shut up," she hissed, riveted by what was unfolding before them.

"Why does it feel like we're spying on them?" Steve murmured.

"Because we kind of are," Donna shot back.

"Brenda," Dylan continued. "You don't think I know how much you suffered when Kelly and I got together. I know. She knows. We all know. You think you hide your emotions so well, but you forget I know you better than you think I do. And I know right now, you are standing at that altar partly because you think _we _think you wouldn't go through with it. Marriage's not a game of chicken. This isn't the time to be stubborn ol'Brenda."

"I'm not being stubborn," she shot back. "And I don't think marriage is a game at all. I'd never treat it so lightly."

"Then why are you standing in a tiny chapel in Las Vegas, away from your friends and family, with no one but this clown by your side? The Brenda I know would never want this for herself. And deep down, you know it," he pressed. Brenda looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink back the tears pricking at her eyes.

"Because Stuart loves me," she replied lamely. It was the only response she could manage.

"No, he doesn't," Dylan affirmed. "But I do. We all do. And we don't want to see you make this mistake. Please, Bren, use your head. Don't listen to your heart right now. Be sensible." Brenda choked out a sob, laughing bitterly.

"I stopped listening to my heart awhile ago, Dylan. Cause if I did listen to it, you know what I'd have to hear all the time?" She paused. "I still love you," she confessed. "And I think you still love me."

"Bren," Dylan warned.

"What?" Stuart shrieked. "You cannot be serious!"

"I'm sorry, Stuart. I can't marry you," Brenda whispered, tears falling freely now. "I can't."

"Well, this is just _great_!" Stuart yelled. "I could kill you, McKay!" He lunged towards Dylan, and Steve and Brandon sprang into action, each grabbing one of Stuart's arms to hold him back.

"That's it!" Mrs. Miles screamed. "All of you. Out! I will not have you fighting and arguing and causing chaos in my wedding chapel. Get out!"

"Is the wedding over?" the little old woman called. "Where do I sign?"

"Quiet, Dorothy," Mrs. Miles hissed.

"I'm going to get you for this," Stuart hissed as he broke free from Steve and Brandon's grip, pointing a finger in Dylan's face. "And you." He spun and leveled the finger at Brenda. "Don't you dare come near me again. I'll leave your bag at the front desk, and you can get it there. He can take care of you now." He spat in Dylan's direction and stalked out of the room angrily. Brenda turned and handed Mrs. Miles the bouquet.

"I'm very sorry," she apologized. Turning to Dylan, she murmured, "I think we need to talk."

"Well, let's go talk then," he replied. He extended his arm to her, and she accepted it, allowing him to lead her from the chapel onto Las Vegas Boulevard. They began to walk north, heads close together, already deep in conversation.

"That was, uh, interesting," David sighed, squeezing Donna's hand as they also made their way out of the chapel. Brandon stopped in his tracks.

"Where did Kelly go?" he asked, alarmed. Steve, Donna and David exchanged looks.

"What do you mean?"

"Kelly," Brandon repeated. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Donna whispered. "I didn't see her."

"She was standing in the back of the chapel. She didn't want to sit down," Brandon explained.

"I never saw her leave," Steve shrugged.

"No kidding, Steve," Brandon mocked. "No one saw her leave, that's why we're wondering where she is."

"I can't imagine it was easy for her to stand there and watch that," David remarked. "After all, she and Dylan aren't really broken up, are they?"

"I thought they were," Steve replied.

"That's the problem," Donna sighed. "I don't think they know where they stand. And hearing Brenda profess her love for Dylan had to have affected her."

"So she just took off?" Steve asked.

"Looks like it," David nodded. Brandon raked a hand through his hair.

"Well, we've got to find her," he declared.

"Bran, Kelly's not a lost child. She can handle herself. She probably wants to be alone right now," Steve offered. "Just let her be."

"I'm with Brandon," Donna piped up. "She's probably upset, and she shouldn't be alone. I think we should look for her."

"She couldn't have gotten far," David pointed out. "We weren't in there that long."

"Yeah, but there are ton of places she could have gone," Brandon indicated, his heart going out to Kelly.

"She's not going to get far in any of the casinos," David added. "She's not 21, they'll kick her right out."

"Not if she has one of these babies," Steve grinned, pulling an ID from his pocket. "And I'm gonna go test mine right now. I'll keep an eye out for her, but I'm telling you, Kelly will be just fine, and she'll go back to the Mirage when she's done licking her wounds. Later, my minions. I'm feeling lucky tonight!" And with that, Steve chuckled and headed south down Las Vegas Boulevard. "I'll be at Treasure Island!" he called back over his shoulder. Brandon shook his head.

"He's unbelievable," he mused, trying not to get too annoyed with the guy.

"We'll look for her, Brandon," Donna offered.

"I actually think Steve is right," David spoke up. "Where would we even start? And how would we let the other know we found her? I kind of think we should just let her be. She'll go back to her room when she's ready."

"Would _you_ go back to a room if you were sharing it with Dylan?" Donna said, irritated with her boyfriend. "She's staying with us tonight, David. You can sleep on the couch. Kelly and I'll take the bed."

"Thank God Steve wasn't here to hear that," David quipped. Brandon sighed irritably.

"Well, I'm going to go wait in the lobby of the Mirage. If she comes through there, I'll see her. She shouldn't be alone right now." He jammed his hands in his pockets and started walking back in the direction of the hotel.

"Might as well go back too," she agreed. David took her hand.

"Let's go grab a quick dinner, just you and me, okay? If I'm not getting you to myself later tonight, we can at least have a little alone time now. We're in _Vegas_," he emphasized.

"Okay," Donna agreed. "I hope Kelly's alright. Poor Kel," she sighed.

"Brandon's awfully concerned about her," David raised an eyebrow.

"Because that's the kind of guy Brandon is," Donna reminded. "He's always thinking of someone other than himself. We should all be so nice."

"I'm just saying…" he trailed off.

"Saying what?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"What a night," Donna reflected.

"You can say that again," David agreed, and they set off in search of a restaurant.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Author's Note2: **_That confrontation scene played out so much better in my head, so I hope it meets all your approvals. It was not as easy to write as I'd have liked. I wanted to get this posted for Jianna, so though I revised several places, I didn't proofread too well. Hopefully nothing was too egregious. I can't promise Chapter 13 this weekend, as my social calendar is too full for my own liking, but I can promise it will not be unlucky. ;)

Thanks again to those of you leaving feedback and all your kind words. It really does fuel the creative fire, and you don't know how much it means to a writer. 


	13. Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad?

**Chapter 13: Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad? **

Brandon walked up Las Vegas Boulevard, the winking lights of the hotels and casinos sparkling in the muted twilight. He was still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. On the one hand, he was thrilled beyond belief that Brenda had come to her senses and decided not to marry Stuart. But he had not been expecting her candid confession that she was still in love with Dylan McKay.

Brandon knew his sister had never really given up on her ex-boyfriend, but he also figured that her intense pride would keep any lingering feelings bottled up inside. He also didn't think she'd choose to make such a declaration in front of all her friends, including the friend who happened to be in relationship limbo with said ex-boyfriend.

He couldn't have imagined what Kelly had been thinking when Brenda told Dylan she still loved him. No one could actually be sure when Kelly had slipped out of the chapel, but odds were she had left after hearing Brenda say what she had said. Brandon chided himself for not keeping a closer eye on Kelly when the whole scene went down.

When he reached the Mirage, he took a detour through the casino floor. He knew he really wasn't supposed to be there, but his curiosity won out, and he had to take a peek. He was surprised at the slight rush he felt being in the midst of all that gambling. He spotted a room with a long bar running the length of the wall, rows of televisions all tuned to various sporting events. He took a deep breath and shook his head. He had kicked his gambling addiction, and though he knew addicts were addicts for life, it was not a wagon he wanted to fall from.

He was weaving his way among the beeping and pinging slot machines when something caught his eye at the closest bar. Someone, actually.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said softly, his lips inches from her ear. Kelly jumped, the drink in her hand sloshing onto the bar. She dabbed at the spill with a cocktail napkin and managed a weak smile for him.

"You can't afford my thoughts," she replied, stirring her drink absently. Brandon noted the sadness heavy in her eyes and nodded towards the Collins glass that sat sweating on the bar in front of her.

"Shirley Temple, right Kel?" Kelly brought the glass to just under Brandon's nose and waved it gently. He caught a strong whiff of alcohol, possibly vodka.

"Does it smell like a Shirley Temple?" she asked. Brandon sighed and settled onto the plush bar stool next to hers. She had unpinned her hair, and it fell in loose, careless waves past her shoulders. Her usually-sparkling blue eyes were tinged red from crying, and in spite of her better efforts, a few mascara streaks were still evident on her face. And she still managed to look beautiful, he noted admiringly.

"Kelly, what are you doing?" he chided gently. "You don't need to be doing this." He lowered his voice. "Does that bartender even know you're underage?"

"Duh," she rolled her eyes. "Brandon, I've had a good fake ID since I was 15." She tossed her head and took another drink. "And it's one drink. I'm not going to become my mother with one little vodka-and-cranberry. Where did everyone go after the fireworks?" she attempted to change the subject.

"Donna and David went to grab some dinner. Steve is at Treasure Island, testing his own ID," Brandon replied quietly. "Everyone was concerned about you though. I came back here to wait for you. I guess I win the Kelly Taylor sweepstakes," he joked. "What's my prize?"

"What about Dylan and Brenda?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

"I don't know. I think they went for a walk to talk" he answered honestly. "I was more concerned about you."

"It will never be about me as long as she's around," Kelly whispered, twirling the straw absently. "As long as your sister is living and breathing, Dylan will never be able to let her go. I've always knew it Brandon." She drew a shaky breath. "I've always known it, but I've never wanted to admit it to myself. And tonight, well, I can't really keep denying it anymore." Tears spilled down her cheeks, glistening in the pulsing lights of the casino. Brandon leaned towards her, wrapping an arm around her shuddering body as she cried. He felt the wet warmth of her tears soaking into his shirt as she turned in his arms and sobbed.

"C'mon, let's get you out of here," he offered softly.

"Where am I supposed to go, Brandon?" she wailed. "I can't possibly go to my room. I'm done with Dylan. I don't want to be anywhere near him. And for all I know, he's up there making up for lost time with Brenda." She pulled free of his embrace and rose shakily from her bar stool. She withdrew a five from her purse and slapped it down on the bar before grabbing the glass and quickly downing what was left of her drink.

"Well, I can get your stuff from your room. I think Donna said you were staying with her and David, no questions asked." Kelly coughed, stifling a sob.

"That'll ruin any chance of romance for sure," she laughed bitterly. "Good. Everyone can be as miserable as I am."

"Let's just go for a walk," he suggested, lacing his fingers through hers, surprised at just how perfectly they seemed to fit together. "We'll see where the lights take us." Kelly gazed at him, meeting his eyes with hers.

"Why are you such a good guy, Brandon Walsh?" she whispered as he guided her across the floor and out of the double doors at the edge of the casino.

"Years of practice, I guess," he joked, holding the door as she slid through it. The sun had completely set, and the strip was alight with bustling nightlife.

"This is so not what I pictured," Kelly murmured, "I mean, I guess I always just had the old kitschy Vegas Strip in my mind."

"Yeah, that's what everyone pictures, I think." Brandon agreed, jamming his hands deeper into the pockets of his pants. "Places like Circus, Circus and Binion's Horseshoe and stuff." Behind them, the volcano in front of the Mirage began its hourly eruption, spewing glowing flames into the night sky. A group had assembled to watch, and Brandon and Kelly carefully navigated their way through the throngs of people. .

They walked in silence for a bit, Brandon wondering if it wouldn't be inappropriate to reach over and take her hand in his again. Kelly had kind of wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her waist, as if she was actually holding herself together. So he kept them in his pockets, matching her pace with each of his steps.

"Do you know Lucinda Nicholson?" Her question froze him in his tracks.

"Uh, yeah, I've seen her around campus. Isn't she married to Professor Randall?" Kelly shrugged.

"I've heard they're separated. Or something, I think," she replied vaguely. Brandon nodded his head absently. "Anyway, she was lecturing in my Women's Studies class a few weeks ago on serial monogamy, and I found the whole thing pretty ironic."

"What's serial monogamy?" Brandon said quizzically.

"According to her, it's a series of long-term, exclusive relationships entered into consecutively over a lifetime. Meaning, you take different people at different stages of your life for various purposes."

"And she was promoting this?" he asked. "Maybe that explains the separation." He suddenly felt as if he had been the targeted prey of Lucinda, the next notch in her belt.

"She certainly wasn't advocating a long, happy marriage," Kelly shook her head. "Do you think there's just one person out there for everyone?" Brandon knew her questioning was entirely innocent, but he was suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I'd like to think so," he replied. "I sometimes think people don't work as hard at marriage as they used to. It's easier to give up and move on, I guess."

"Your parents have made it," she pointed out, smiling.

"Yeah, they have," he agreed. "And they've never seemed anything but happy to me."

"Your parents have it all," she said wistfully. "Great marriage, wonderful kids, their health…I guess there's hope." She paused and brushed her hair off her shoulder. "I used to think Dylan was that person for me. I mean, we've always had problems, it's never been easy with him, but I guess I always assumed he was the one I was supposed to be with and that's why we always wound up back together after all the fights." She laughed cynically. "Shows how much I know."

"Kelly, don't." He was more than willing to listen to her vent about her relationship with Dylan, but he didn't want her blaming herself.

"Brandon," she began, tugging his hand from one pocket and threading her fingers through his own. "Tell me again why you and I never would have worked." He glanced over at her and found her studying him intensely. He cleared his throat. This was not what he had been expecting her to say next.

"Well, I seem to recall something about you being like a sister to me." She nodded.

"Yeah, I remember that," she smiled wanly. "Congrats, by the way. That's probably the grossest thing any guy has ever said to me. And trust me, guys were pretty bad in high school."

"I never meant it to hurt you, Kelly," he said softly.

"I know," she sighed. "I know you'd never intentionally hurt someone. It goes against all things Brandon Walsh."

"For what it's worth," he started, "I do remember how beautiful you looked that night at the Spring Dance."

"Is it really selfish of me to wonder what things would have been like if Brenda and I had never become friends?"

"I think a lot of things probably would have been different then, Kel," he noted.

"Well, I also remember that you said if we were perfect strangers, you'd be in love with me." He laughed, unsure of where she was going with this line of questioning.

"Come on, Kelly. I'd have been crazy not to have."

"Well, we're in Las Vegas, the capital of crazy." The tone of her voice changed, and she stopped walking, her fingers still gripping his tightly. "People do crazy things here." And then before he could reply, Kelly's other hand found the nape of his neck and guided his lips to meet her own. The intensity of the kiss caught Brandon off-guard and before he could react, Kelly broke free. Her eyes locked on his, and she inhaled shakily.

"Brandon, I…" she murmured, gently touching her fingers to her lips. A thousand things were flying through his head at the moment, and yet, all he could concentrate on was how good her lips had felt against his. And he had the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and kiss her again.

So he did. One hand found the small of Kelly's back and drew her towards him as he captured her lips with his. Her mouth responded against his with an eagerness that took both their breaths away. Kelly found herself going weak from his embrace, and her hands clutched at his shoulders. Her tongue darted out to trace the soft curve of his lower lip, her boldness surprising him. He invited the intrusion and deepened the kiss, feeling Kelly moan lightly against his mouth.

"Let's go up to your room," she suggested in between kisses. Brandon released her and tried to get control over his breathing, willing his body to stop reacting the way it was towards her. Her eyes were still locked on his, pleading with him silently, glazed with a lust he had certainly never personally seen on Kelly's face before.

He was shocked to hear himself say, "Okay."

***

"What a gentleman my ex is," Brenda lamented once she had located her overnight bag smack in the center of Caesar's concierge. A note, penned on hotel stationery, was resting on top of the bag. _Have a nice life_. _–S. _was all it read.

"He just left it here, in the middle of the lobby, for anyone to take?" Dylan spat incredulously. "That guy really is a classless asshole."

"He wasn't like that with me," Brenda replied quietly, leaning down to pick up her bag. "At least not all the time. I'm sure I'm going to see things in hindsight that Stuart did that weren't so wonderful, but he's got to be pretty mad right now."

"His reaction was actually pretty tame for the Stuart Carson I know," he shrugged. "He's always had quite the temper, and I wouldn't have put it past him to get a little rough with a woman."

"He never touched me, Dylan," Brenda explained quickly, reddening slightly. "At least beyond anything we both wanted." Her mind flashed back to hours earlier when she had pushed him away in the hotel room. He had certainly restrained his anger then, but she had definitely suspected he was a little more than irritated with her.

"Good. Now you'll keep it that way since he's out of your life," he declared. "Let's get out of here before we cross paths with him." His eyes scanned the lobby. "Course, he's probably gambling away his sorrows at a high-rollers table right now, knocking back the scotches."

"Well I have what I need," she indicated, swinging her bag slightly. "Where should we go?" she hedged. "I kind of would like to get out of this wedding dress, if you can call it that. But then again, all I have is the shorts and t-shirt I flew here in. I don't even really have a place to stay."

"Your brother and Steve are sharing a room at the Mirage. I'm sure they'd let you crash there," he suggested. Brenda furrowed her brow and bit her lip. "But there are tons of red-eyes out of McCarren. We could always go try to get on a flight back to LAX if you're anxious to just go home."

"No, not really," she admitted. "I'm not exactly eager to explain this whole debacle to my parents, especially if Brandon kept his word and didn't tell them."

"He did," Dylan answered. "But he said not telling your parents was the only promise he had made, and that's why he sought our help."

"Did he come right to you?" she asked, sliding a sideways glance at him.

"Nah, he actually talked to Kelly first, and she came to me."

"Oh," she nodded, wondering why her brother wouldn't have just gone to Dylan first.

"Tell you what," Dylan offered. "Let's go to the Mirage, and you can at least change your clothes in my room. Then we can go grab dinner and have a little talk. I know that you've clearly got some things on your mind." Brenda found herself getting annoyed that Dylan was blatantly dancing around the naked declaration Brenda had made not even an hour ago. She had laid her soul bare for him, and here he was, casually making conversation as if nothing had happened.

"I'd actually not change, then, if you want to grab dinner," she replied, throwing the ball back in his court. "I'm sure shorts and a t-shirt isn't exactly fancy enough for most of the restaurants on the Strip, and I'd really just like to sit down and get a drink or something." Dylan shrugged.

"Sure, but if you're talking a "drink" drink, you're probably not going to get served in most places. They're actually pretty strict here."

"Just a soda will do, thanks, Dad," she replied caustically.

"What's with you, Bren?"

She clenched her fists and silently counted to three, trying to keep her emotions in check. Her eyes looked quickly around the lobby where they were still standing, suddenly paranoid that Stuart would make his presence known at any moment.

"Let's just go Dylan," she gritted her teeth. "We'll get dinner and you and I can have a much-needed chat." She spun on her heel and began to stalk angrily towards the doors. Dylan heaved a sigh and followed her out of the hotel, beginning a silent, tense walk in search of a restaurant.

***

Brandon fumbled with the lock on the door, finally managing to push the door open, Kelly close at his heels. She tossed her purse on the floor as he pulled the door shut behind them, swiftly clicking the lock and fastening the deadbolt shut.

"You think Steve would respect this if you hung it on the door?" Brandon turned and saw the _Do Not Disturb_ sign dangling from Kelly's index finger. He smiled ruefully.

"Not likely. But I think Steve's probably living it up right now, and I'm not sure he's planning on calling it an early night."

"Good," she replied, stepping towards him. Her hands cupped his jaw and brought his lips to her waiting mouth again. Brandon braced one hand against the small of her back; the other wove its way through her long blonde locks. She kissed him hungrily, greedily, leaning towards him enough to begin to guide their bodies towards one of the double beds. Brandon felt his knees hit against the edge of the mattress, and he tumbled onto the bed, drawing Kelly down against him.

Brandon knew he probably shouldn't be doing this; as shocked as he was to find himself as turned on by Kelly as he was at the moment, he also knew she was hurting and vulnerable, and he couldn't guarantee she was even thinking clearly.

She certainly wasn't holding back, he observed. Kelly was straddling his body, her lips working over his collarbone as her fingers deftly worked at the buttons on his shirt. He closed one hand over hers.

"Kelly, I don't know," he admitted softly. "I don't know if we really should be doing this." There, he had said it. Kelly straightened up, the straps of her dress, before loosely sliding down her upper arms, now slipped further down, causing the material to pool around her waist. Brandon tried in vain to avert his eyes from the sight of her, so close to him, her upper body clad only in a lacy bra.

"Why shouldn't we be doing this?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. She smiled seductively as she noticed his eyes darting over her chest. When he didn't immediately reply, her face fell and sorrow filled her eyes. "You're still not attracted to me," she whispered hoarsely, looking away as she swung her leg back over his waist and stumbled to her feet. She struggled to put the straps of her dress back into place. Brandon knew he really couldn't stand, not without giving away just how attracted to her he actually was.

"That's part of the problem, Kel," he murmured, sitting up slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows. Kelly turned and knelt back on the bed next to him, her body just inches from his once more. "Do you even know how much I care about you? Our friendship means the world to me."

"Friendship," she echoed, her left index finger tracing invisible circles on the comforter. He crooked a finger and lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

"I am very attracted to you, Kelly," he confessed. "You're an amazing girl. But at the same time, I feel there's a line between us that if crossed…well, things won't be the same."

"What if I told you I've been waiting to cross that line since the first day I saw you?" she asked, her voice thick with passion. Brandon felt his resolve weakening as her eyes swept over him, her teeth dragging her lower lip into her mouth.

"Kelly," he began, fighting the feelings that were rising within him. She shook her head.

"I know exactly what you're thinking, Brandon," she stated. "You think that I'm fragile right now, and I'm hurting, and if anything happens between us, you'd be taking advantage of me." She leaned towards him again, forcing him to lie back flat on the bed. "You think this is about Dylan. That I'm looking for the nearest lay to prove I don't need him." Her voice was barely audible as she brushed a whisper of a kiss across his lips. "I'm telling you, this is not about anyone but you and me. This is not a rebound thing, this is not about Dylan, this is not about me being hurt."

"How can it not be, Kel?" he wondered.

"Because," she said, her voice now loud and firm. "Dylan and I were never meant to be. No matter what happened tonight, I had come to that conclusion. What Brenda did tonight just stunned me and hit me like a ton of bricks because I thought I was going to have time to sort of my feelings and discuss things calmly with Dylan. I just didn't expect to hear her say that." She sighed. "To be honest, I've been happier these past few weeks alone, without Dylan, than I've been in months with him."

"You have?" he asked skeptically. She nodded.

"Yeah," she smiled wryly. "Maybe Lucinda Nicholson is right. Maybe Dylan and I were only meant to be part of each other's lives for awhile. But the romantic in me'd rather believe that he just wasn't the person I'm supposed to spend my life with, and that guy is out there somewhere." She looked him directly in the eyes. "I just haven't found him yet."

"Kelly, I'm not trying to hurt you," he said softly. "Because believe me, you have no idea how much I want you right now."

"Then be with me," she interjected, almost pleading, her face so close to his he could feel her warm breath on his cheek, smell the faint scent of cranberry lingering on her breath. "Brandon, you don't always have to do the honorable thing you know."

"I just don't want this to change things between us," he repeated.

"It will," she affirmed. "But change is good. Change means I finally have a chance with you." She paused. "Do you remember what I asked you after I kissed you that first time in high school at the spring dance?" Brandon thought for a moment, and the memory flashed so clearly in his mind's eye. He nodded.

"You asked if I thought we made a great couple," he replied.

"Do you think we make a great couple?" she echoed softly. He stared into her eyes, taking in the sight of this beautiful girl, and suddenly, he had no more excuses.

"I think we could," he murmured, seizing her by the shoulders and crushing her body to his, their lips meeting in a frantic embrace.

"So do I," she whispered. "I've waited three years to hear you say that."

"Then I hope I'm worth the wait," he replied, hooking his fingers under the straps of her dress and slowly easing it down her body. Kelly drew in a breath, her eyes glittering as her hands worked the shirt off Brandon's shoulders. His hands roamed the nearly bare skin of her back, his fingers pausing as they toyed with the clasp of her bra.

"You're sure?" he whispered.

"Never been more sure of anything," she replied, whimpering softly as he released the clasp and flipped her over, covering her own body with his, his lips blazing a trail across her collarbone. She closed her eyes and arched her back off the bed as Brandon took control and began to make love to her.

***

"So, are you going to even acknowledge the fact I said I love you tonight?" Brenda asked the moment the waiter had taken their menus and walked away from the table. Dylan raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his water.

"Am I supposed to?"

"Okay, Dylan, I'm really confused here, because I can't, for the life of me, figure out where we stand then." She broke off a piece of bread roughly, not even pausing to butter it. "You've been trying to warn me about Stuart from the moment I started dating him, you interrupted my engagement party with the bombshell about the prenuptial agreement, and then you get on a plane and fly to Las Vegas to stop me from marrying me. Do you see how a girl might take that as signs that a guy is still interested in her?"

"A friend can do all those things, Brenda," he reminded her. "A friend can be concerned." She laughed acrimoniously.

"So you want me to believe you did all those things as a concerned friend, and nothing more?" She narrowed her eyes. "Look me in the eyes right now, Dylan, and tell me you don't still have feelings for me."

"I do still have feelings for you, Bren," he replied. "I always will. I'm always going to want to be part of your life and be there for you."

"But." Brenda rolled her eyes, knowing the three-letter word was coming next.

"But," Dylan repeated, "I do love Kelly."

"Where is Kelly right now?" she challenged. "Because you're here with me, and she's God-knows-where."

"I'm here with you because you needed me," he pointed out bluntly. Brenda threw the piece of bread down in frustration.

"Dammit, Dylan, this is not helping. I told you that I still love you tonight," she hissed. "And you're going to pull this same tired act pitting me against Kelly?" She sighed, leaning back against her chair in annoyance. "Fine, tell me right now that you don't think we'd have any kind of a future together, and I'll leave it alone. For good."

"It's not that simple, Bren," he shook his head. Brenda dragged her fingers through her hair, silent screaming pulsing through her head.

"Let me ask you a question, point blank. Do you want to give our relationship another try?" She paused and waited for his answer. She could tell Dylan was pondering the question, and she also saw the relief flood his eyes as the waiter appeared at the table to plunk down two salads. He immediately grabbed his fork and began devouring his Caesar salad. Brenda groaned inwardly and stabbed at a walnut threatening to escape off the plate holding her own California salad.

"Okay, Bren," Dylan began, wiping his mouth and setting his fork down after several silence-filled minutes while they chewed and avoided eye contact. "I'm going to be honest with you. Brutally honest with you. You might not like what you're about to hear."

"Then why would I want to hear it?" she spat back. Dylan held up a hand.

"Because I'm going to say it, and you're going to listen. There is a part of me that has always wondered what might become of us if we gave us…you and me…another try. But technically, Kelly and I are only seeing other people right now, and I'd need to establish some kind of closure with her if I were going to give us…you and me…another try."

"So this is about Kelly. Again," Brenda mused irritably.

"I told you that you might not like it," he reminded her. "You still want me to talk to her?" Brenda sighed, her mind racing a mile a minute, her stomach doing flip-flops at the thought of being tossed back into a childish love triangle.

"And what happens if you and Kelly decide that you're going to stick it out and be together?"

"Who said we were going to decide that?"

"Do you want that?" she challenged.

"I love Kelly," he admitted. "I love you."

"Dammit, Dylan, grow a pair and answer me." He caught her off-guard by leaning across the table and giving her a gentle kiss, feather-light, on her lips, barely brushing them with his own.

"If you want to give us another try, Bren, be patient. That's all I can say." He stood up and folded his napkin near his empty salad plate. "I'm gonna go find a restroom before the dinners arrive." Brenda exhaled, blowing a spare cocktail napkin clear across the table, and slumped in her seat, frustrated beyond belief at Dylan McKay.

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_**Author's Note: **_Okay, I wrote and rewrote this chapter four times, and I'm still not sure I'm satisfied with it. Sadly, this was the chapter that had been written FIRST, even before the prologue, and the title (thanks Def Leppard) had been good inspiration at the time. But it's hard to write censored love scenes (I'm not shy about the sex scenes, but I know is), and it's equally hard to show appropriate tension in written word.

Chapter 14 should get very interesting…so you know clicking that pretty little button and stroking my bruised ego is a good way to get me moving faster on it. Even just a quick couple words goes a long, long way.

Jianna, I hope it meets your expectations, my dear. Much like Brandon Walsh, I keep my promises. ;)


	14. Hanging By a Moment

**Chapter 14: Hanging by a Moment**

"That," Kelly murmured, taking a deep breath and trying to will her pulse back to normal, "That was…" she trailed off, nestling her body closer to Brandon's. "I'm at a loss for words," she giggled softly. Brandon worked his fingers through her blonde locks, kneading gently at the nape of her neck, feeling her shudder against him.

"I can think of a few," he replied, kissing her temple and inhaling, drinking in the scent of her.

"Oh really?" she challenged, gazing up at him. He grinned.

"Yeah, but technically they're all synonyms for amazing. So let's just say that was amazing," he laughed.

"Works for me," Kelly agreed. "See what you've been missing all these years?" Brandon smiled to himself, realizing she did have a point. But at the same time, he wondered if the reason the sex had seemed so particularly mind-blowing was the years of want and tension built up between the two of them.

"Yeah, well, I'll concede that it was worth the wait," he teased, running his index finger along the line of her shoulder and down her right arm. Kelly suddenly sat up, holding the bed sheet against her chest.

"This does change things, Brandon," she whispered. "I'm not interested in one-night stands, I hope you know that." He shifted his body and dragged himself into a sitting position, his bare chest flush against her own exposed back, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I wouldn't have given in to you if I thought it was going to be anything but the start of something more serious, Kelly," he confessed softly. She tilted her head back to look into his eyes.

"So you really do want to give a relationship a try?" she asked hopefully, her blue eyes shining. Brandon nodded.

"I think you were right, Kel," he murmured. "I think we might be great together." A small cry escaped Kelly's lips, and she spun around, launching herself at Brandon, the surprise of her embrace catching him off-guard, sending him backwards onto the bed, Kelly still in his arms. She covered his mouth with her own, kissing him earnestly as the feel of her naked body atop his began to stir familiar feelings within Brandon. He groaned and grabbed her hips as she straddled him.

The second go-round, Brandon observed, was as heated and frantic as their first time was slow and sensual. Minutes later, Kelly collapsed onto him, her body slick with sweat and her breathing shallow.

"Much as I'd like to suggest a Round Three," Brandon whispered, his hand drawing invisible circles on her bare back, "I think we have to consider the fact that sooner or later, Steve is going to make his way back here, and eventually, Donna and David are gonna come knocking, wondering if I had any success finding you."

"You have a point," she sighed, rolling off him and laying back against the other pillow. She didn't bother to draw the sheet over her, and Brandon found his eyes roaming over her body, taking in every line and curve of her in appreciation.

"So what do we do about this? About us?"

"Well," she began, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "I actually don't think we should tell anyone about us right yet."

"I see, the lady is ashamed," Brandon teased, pouting playfully.

"Fact is, Brandon, only two people need to know what went on in this room tonight. Because you and I both know why it happened, and that it wasn't anything less than two people truly wanting each other." She gracefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching languidly before reaching for the bra and panties he had so eagerly disposed of more than an hour ago. "And I just think some of them are going to judge us, blame it on Vegas, rather than consider we might actually have feelings for each other."

"And then there's Dylan," Brandon sighed, grabbing his own boxer shorts. Kelly's expression grew puzzled.

"Dylan? What about him?"

"I mean, you and him…" Kelly crossed to where he was standing and pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him.

"There is no me and him anymore, Brandon," she declared, her voice firm. "Dylan's actions tonight spoke loud and clear as to where his feelings lie, and I told you, I wouldn't have thought twice about sleeping with you tonight if I had any doubts that I was over him myself." She lowered her eyes. "I'd never do that to you."

"But does he know that? I guess that's all I'm getting at," he said, swallowing hard as Kelly's lips brushed against his neck, her warm breath tickling his skin.

"When he's ready to talk to me, I'll be more than happy to tell him," she murmured, her tongue swirling over the pulse point just beneath his ear. Brandon hissed and drew in a breath, holding her firmly by the shoulders.

"What are you trying to do to me?" he chided gently.

"I guess I'm trying to give you something to remember me by," she teased. "After all, it'll be a long, lonely night sharing this room with Steve."

"Speaking of," Brandon interrupted. "He's another one who probably isn't going to take the idea of you and me together too well."

"Too bad for him," Kelly sniffed. "If he hasn't taken the hint by now that he and I are never, ever going to happen again, then he really is as dumb as he acts." She paused. "What about Brenda?"

"I'm not sure," he replied thoughtfully. "I mean, I know my sister pretty well, but this is a case where I'm really not sure how she'd react."

"All the more reason to keep this our little secret for awhile," she demurred, giving him a private smile.

"It might not be easy," he frowned. "Now that I've had a taste of you, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep my hands off of you." Kelly giggled and pulled her dress over her head in one fluid motion. She stepped towards him and kissed him passionately again.

"It'll give you something to look forward to," she whispered, licking her lips as they broke away from each other. "I guess I'd better see if Donna and David are back in their room yet."

"What if they're not?" he hedged. Kelly shrugged.

"Then I'll sit in the hall outside their room like a latchkey kid locked out of the house," she joked. "I'll think of something. I'm resourceful."

"That you are," he smiled. She grinned and walked towards the door, reaching for the knob.

"Kel?" Brandon called.

"Yeah?" She pivoted and faced him from the doorway.

"Goodnight," he smiled.

"Night, Brandon," she whispered, her lips curving upwards coyly. As the door closed, Brandon sighed and replayed the previous hour in his mind, feeling a thrill pass through his body as he did so.

***

Brenda stared at the numbers above the elevator doors, watching each light up as the car passed the subsequent floors. She snuck a quick glance over at Dylan, who was staring straight ahead, hands jammed in his pockets. They had walked back to the hotel in silence, and it was apparently going to continue that way as they made their way to the rooms.

She was utterly disappointed that Dylan hadn't offered his hotel room to her. It's not like she was expecting to dive back into bed with him, though a small part of her knew it would have been easy to end up that way if Dylan had given her any inclination he wanted it. She faked her strength; inwardly, she had always been weak when it came to all things Dylan.

"This is our floor," Dylan spoke up as the elevator glided to a stop. He paused and indicated she should exit first, but as she did, she found herself waiting for him, since she obviously had no idea where they were going. Dylan made a left, and Brenda followed, also mildly irritated that Dylan had never offered to carry her overnight bag. She grunted and swung it back onto her shoulder as they padded down the lush hallway.

Brenda squinted and noticed a figure sitting down near the end of the hallway, and as she got nearer, she noticed the blonde head. She quickened her pace and drew even with Dylan, whose eyes were fixed on Kelly.

"Kel?" Her head snapped up, and her eyes immediately glowered as she set her sights on Brenda and Dylan. "What are you doing sitting out here?"

"Gee, I wonder," Kelly snapped sarcastically. "I'm waiting for David and Donna to get back from dinner."

"Where did you go after my…uh…wedding that wasn't?" Brenda finished sheepishly.

"Oh, you care now?" she smirked. Brenda sighed. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with an angry Kelly, but she knew declaring her love for Dylan earlier couldn't have gone over well with Kelly. "Don't worry about me. You two just go on into Dylan's room and have yourselves a nice night."

"Kelly," Dylan sighed, "Cut the crap. Brenda isn't staying with me tonight. Go back to our room." Kelly scrambled to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest.

"No, thanks, Dylan," she said firmly.

"We need to talk," he stated.

"Oh, really?" she mused, raising an eyebrow at him. Brenda stood, watching the verbal banter.

"Well, I guess I should go inform Brandon I'm his roommate tonight," Brenda declared loudly, trying to draw attention to the fact she was still standing there. "It'll be like we're ten and on a family vacation again. Which room is his, Dylan?"

"The one right behind you," Kelly replied without missing a beat. Her eyes were still narrowed at Dylan.

Brenda was dying to know what was going to go down between the two of them, and she had a sudden flash that the words Dylan spoke as they were finishing dinner about being patient and him making things clear with Kelly may be resolved much sooner than she thought. A rush of hope flooded her, and she turned and pounded on Brandon's door.

"Brenda, what's wrong?" Brandon peered out into the hallway, clearly having used the peephole to identify her prior to opening the door. "Where's Dylan?"

"Right over there." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder and pushed past him into the room, throwing her bag to the floor emphatically. Brandon ducked his head into the hallway quickly just in time to see Kelly, arms crossed defiantly, following Dylan into his hotel room. His heart sank temporarily, but at the last moment, Kelly glanced over and caught his eye, winking at him and shooting him a dazzling smile. Relief washed over him, and he closed the door with a smile of his own.

"What are you grinning at?" Brenda said accusingly. Brandon pressed his lips together and ignored her.

"What are you doing here?" Brenda heaved a dramatic sigh and sank into one of the chairs near the small table over by the window.

"Dylan told me he needs to talk to Kelly."

"About what?" Brandon asked casually.

"Duh. About them, Brandon." She shook her head.

"You thought your little declaration of love back at the chapel would have sent him running back to your arms?" Brandon said bluntly. The flush that crept onto Brenda's cheeks answered the question for him, but she raised her chin defiantly and shook her head.

"Not at all," she sniffed. "I was being honest. Ball's in Dylan's court now." Brandon sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I told him how I feel. He knows I'd be willing to give our relationship another try, and I think he would too, but he also said that he and Kelly are not technically finished, just seeing other people." She paused. "Or I guess maybe not, since Kelly went on, like, two dates with John Sears, and really, who else could she be seeing?"

"And I take it you're not interested in seeing Dylan while he's seeing Kelly?"

"I am _not_ doing that whole triangle thing, again," she huffed. "Dylan's going to be mine and only mine if at all." She leaned her chin in her hands, elbows resting on the table. "I just wish I knew where Kelly stood. For all I know, the seeing other people thing wasn't working and she is happy with him," she lamented. Brandon hesitated, careful to consider what he should and should not say. This was his sister, after all, but he also didn't want to reveal anything that could put Kelly in a precarious situation with either Brenda or Dylan.

"Well," he began slowly. "Kelly and I have had a few heart to hearts lately, while she helped me out dealing with you and your crazy elopement. And I kind of got the impression that she was tired of never knowing where she and Dylan stood, and she wasn't entirely sure they were going to make it." There, he thought, satisfied. It was the truth, and it was also vague enough not to give away their earlier candid conversation.

"Really?" Brenda's eyes glowed, hope gleaming in them.

"I'm not trying to get your hopes up, sis," he added. "Kelly and Dylan haven't exactly been predictable these past two years."

"Uh, that's an understatement," Brenda retorted.

"So what now?" Brandon wondered.

"We wait."

***

"You wanted to talk. So. Talk," Kelly ordered, arms still crossed, eyes still glowering at her ex-boyfriend.

"Can we drop the antagonistic attitude for a few minutes, Kel, and have a civilized conversation?"

"If that's what you want," she replied sharply.

"I assume your little disappearing act at the chapel was because of what Brenda said to me." Kelly brought her hands together and applauded mockingly.

"Nothing gets by you, Dylan," she snickered.

"Dammit, Kel, I'm not going to have this talk if I have to deal with you like this," he yelled.

"Well, gee, Dylan, might you consider someone other than yourself or your precious Brenda for a few minutes and realize I'm hurt?"

"I am considering you," he replied quietly. "I'm here with you and Brenda isn't."

"I'm tired of this Dylan," Kelly sighed wearily. "Tonight taught me one thing. You and I are not meant to be."

"Is that how you honestly feel, or is that the hurt speaking?" he wondered. Kelly pressed her lips together into a thin line, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

"At first, I thought it was the hurt," she started. "You don't know how it felt to stand there and listen to Brenda tell everyone…_everyone_, Dylan, that she was still in love with you. I didn't want to stay around and wait for everyone to start fussing over me and sympathizing or taking sides. 'Oh, poor Kelly,' or 'Well, she should have seen this coming.' So I left. And I went to be by myself and take stock of where you and I stand."

"And where is that?" he asked, his eyes heavy on hers. Kelly looked directly at him, at the man she had spent the past two years with, two years spent trying to be all that he needed and wanted.

"Seeing other people has taught me that I don't know myself very well, Dylan," she confessed, wringing her hands nervously as she began to bare her soul to him. Dylan snorted.

"Seeing John Sears will do that to you," he sneered. Kelly's eyes crackled with fire.

"I'm about to pour my heart out to you, and you're going to dwell on a few dates I had with a guy you happen to hate?" Kelly shook her head in disbelief. "You don't really know me at all, do you Dylan?"

"You just said you didn't know yourself, how should I?" he replied sardonically. Kelly sighed and turned towards the door.

"This isn't going to work, Dylan," she sighed. Dylan reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her fast in place.

"Kelly, you're really going to end this…end us, like this?"

"You haven't really given me too many alternatives," she replied, shaking free from his grip.

"Do you love me, Kelly?" he asked, taking her hands in his and holding her gaze intently. Kelly's eyes searched his face, darting back and forth as she contemplated his question.

"I'll always love you, Dylan," she said quietly. "But these past few weeks apart, I…I…" she stumbled over her words and paused, taking a deep breath. "I'm not in love with you anymore," she finished, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes avoiding his. He dropped her hands and nodded.

"I love you, Kelly," he said simply.

"But you love Brenda, too," she shrugged. "It's as if everything and nothing has changed since that summer, Dylan. And I'm just not going to do it anymore. I'm not happy with who I am when I'm with you. I'm sorry," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Brenda just helped make that a little clearer tonight. And ironically, I guess, for that, I owe her a thank you." She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering for just a fraction of a second. "See you around, Dylan." She spun on her heel and reached for the door.

"Kel?"

"What?" she replied, not turning around.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

"So do I," she murmured. "And for what it's worth, I think you already did."

The door closed, and Dylan was alone. For the first time in a long time, he noted.

The question, he decided, was if he wanted to stay that way for awhile.

***

"Kelly!" Kelly turned and saw Donna racing down the hall towards her, and she braced herself for the inevitable bone-crushing hug Donna was no doubt going to draw her into. And sure enough, her best friend plowed into her, hugging her fiercely as David strolled to where the two girls were standing. "Where were you?" Donna asked.

"I just couldn't be there after Brenda said what she did," Kelly replied, watching her friends' heads bob sympathetically. "So I went for a walk. I just wanted to be alone."

"I wanted to go look for you," Donna announced, squeezing her hand. "But Steve and David said it would be kind of silly to do that, being Vegas is a crazy, busy place, and we wouldn't have even known where to start."

"I knew you'd be okay, and that you'd probably want to be alone," David explained. "I wasn't trying to be heartless. But I was hungry," he added. Kelly smiled knowingly.

"Sure, you were. God forbid David doesn't eat for an hour," she teased.

"Well, just so you know we _were_ worried about you," Donna interjected. "Brandon even offered to wait in the lobby in case you came back here. Which you obviously did. Did you see him?" Kelly hid a smile and felt a trickle of pleasure creep into the pit of her stomach as she thought about Brandon.

"Uh, yeah, I did see him. Briefly," she lied. "He asked if I was okay, I told him I was, and he went up to his room."

"Where's your stuff?" Donna asked.

"What?" Kelly asked quizzically. Donna nodded at Kelly's empty hands.

"Your stuff. That's why you were coming out of Dylan's room, right?"

"Unless you were having a knock-down, drag-out cat fight in there with Brenda," David smirked. "But you look pretty put together for that. Your hair is barely messed up."

"If you guys must know, I just ended it with Dylan." Donna's eyes widened and she covered her gaping mouth with a hand.

"No! Because of Brenda?"

"Not really, no," Kelly sighed. "I mean, what she did tonight just kind of clarified things for me, and honestly, guys, I don't really feel like rehashing it again right now. I'll explain it all to you later, I promise. I'd actually just really like to go to bed. I'm so physically and emotionally worn-down I'm amazed I'm still standing."

"Where are you sleeping?" David asked hesitantly. Kelly grinned smugly and threw her arm around her step-brother.

"I think the real question is where are _you _sleeping," she laughed. "Hope the cot room service delivered is comfy, David. I'm taking Donna up on her original offer." David groaned.

"Oh, stop, David," Donna chided. "I told you to get two beds, and serves you right for not listening."

"Don't feel too bad, David. Steve's gonna find himself out of a bed whenever he runs out of money and makes his way back to his room. Brenda's bunking with them, and my guess is Brenda and Brandon will be sound asleep in those double beds before he returns. He'll probably be crashing on the floor unless one of them pities him and orders you a cot like I did for you. So you're welcome," Kelly finished as David slid the key into their lock and opened the door to their room.

"Wait, why don't you take the cot?" David protested as Donna shut the door behind them.

"Shut up, David," Donna giggled, looked at Kelly, and both girls laughed harder.

"I swear, I'm ready to go crash on Brandon's floor and leave Steve to you two as punishment," David muttered. That only made Donna and Kelly laugh harder.

***

"Would you stop pacing?" Brandon warned, watching Brenda cross the room for what had to have been the hundredth time.

"I can't help it Brandon! I'm dying to know what is going on next door!"

"Well, there hasn't been any screaming, and no loud bangs or glass breaking. Besides you don't even know that Kelly is still in there," he pointed out.

"What if she is? And what if it's quiet because they're…" Brenda trailed off, throwing her hands up in frustration. Brandon shook his head in disbelief. He had no way of assuring Brenda that nothing was going on between Dylan and Kelly without revealing what had happened earlier between him and Kelly, but he had to admit he felt more at ease because of it.

"Brenda, you just have to wait. Just go to bed. When we all head out of here tomorrow morning, I guarantee you whatever transpired between Dylan and Kelly will be crystal clear. Stop torturing yourself." He turned his attention back to the television, where he was vainly trying to follow the Clippers-Lakers game on the screen.

"When is Steve coming back?"

"Who knows?" Brandon replied, imagining the kinds of trouble his friend was out there creating.

"He's not gonna cause a scene when he gets back here and finds me in the bed he thought was his, is he?"

"I don't know, Bren," Brandon admitted. Steve could be a loose cannon for sure.

"He'd better not try to get in bed with me," she warned. Brandon snorted.

"Bren, if Steve hasn't tried to make a move on you by now, you're safe. Believe me."

"Whatever," she frowned, throwing back the sheets and climbing into the bed clad only in the t-shirt she had traveled in and a pair of panties. She was _not_ about to put on the slinky negligee that was sitting in her overnight bag, having been packed specifically for a wedding night. She pounded the pillow and tried to ignore the tumultuous thoughts racing through her head.

It was hardly the way she had thought the night would have been ending considering how the day had begun.

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_**Author's Note: **_Thank you soooooo much for the overwhelming feedback you all gave me for Chapter 13, and my sincere apologies for the time it took to get this chapter going. This chapter was particularly challenging to write, as I wanted to be sure I handled the aftermath of Brandon/Kelly, the tension between Brenda/Dylan and the resolution of Dylan/Kelly appropriately. As much as I feel this fic could keep going, rewriting the season from here on out, I'm going to rather concentrate on wrapping up these plotlines and end the fic neatly (probably five more chapters or so), and go from there. Perhaps a sequel down the road….but I do have My Best Friend's Girl going and Baby Love waiting in the wings.

Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of this chapter, since it was so hard to get down! ~Court


	15. Leaving Las Vegas

**Chapter 15: Leaving Las Vegas**

A desperate pounding on the door woke both Brenda and Brandon from their respective slumber. They each opened an eye.

"Steve," they muttered in unison.

"You get up and answer it," Brenda muttered, closing her eyes and turning over to face the window. Brandon shook his head in disbelief and climbed out of bed, padding across the plush carpet to peek through the peephole, indeed seeing Steve's distorted face looming large across the glass.

"Who is it?" Brandon called, smirking to himself.

"Open the door, Brandon! I losht my key!" Steve slurred. Brandon rolled his eyes and threw open the door.

"You lost your key?" Steve pushed past him and stumbled into the room.

"Well, if I know where it ish, but I don't 'ave it, ish it losht?"

"Are you drunk?"

"No…maybe," he replied, starting to cross the room, stopping cold. "Whojs in my bed?"

"Brenda. Long story, but it's not like you'd remember if I told you in the morning. Where have you been?"

"Letting it ride!"

"Would you two shut up?" Brenda's muffled voice came from under the covers. "Some people are trying to sleep!"

"So your fake ID worked?" Brandon asked. Steve smirked, his slightly bloodshot eyes trying to focus on Brandon.

"Like a charm. I wuz up four thoushand dollarz at one point," he announced. "But then I made the shtupid choice to switch from blackjack to Ru-ru-Roulette. And apparently, I shuck at Roulette."

"You lost all that money?"

"Nah, just half of it. I still walked away wif almost a thoushand dollarz," he declared proudly, still slurring his words.

"Steve, half of four thousand is two thousand," Brandon hid a smile, not wanting to patronize his friend in his current state of intoxication. Steve grinned lasciviously.

"Girlz out here ain't cheap, my man," he smirked again. "My private dance with Kiki cost me about a thoushand for two hours." Brandon's mouth dropped open.

"You spent a thousand dollars on a lap dance!"

"Yep. Worth every penny," he nodded, swaying slightly. Brandon shook his head.

"If you say so," he mused, relieved that Steve hadn't been so stupid to use his winnings on an actual hooker, and mildly surprised that he hadn't.

"I'm gonna go to shleep now." Without another word, Steve collapsed to the floor in a heap, immediately snoring like a buzzsaw. Brandon sighed and grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, haphazardly tossing it over Steve's passed-out form. He glanced over and saw Brenda had gone back to sleep, her light snoring just audible from under the covers. He stepped over Steve and walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtain, then the inner gauzy one to gaze out over the strip, first streaks of dawn creeping upward on the horizon.

Suddenly inspired, he darted back across the room, grabbed his room key off the night stand, threw his t-shirt on, stepped into his pants and slipped from the room quietly. He knew what he was about to do was risky, but there were only a couple hours left before their return flight home where he could blame his behavior on Las Vegas.

He walked next door and rapped lightly on the door with his knuckles, working through a contingency plan in his head in case Kelly wasn't the one who answered the door.

But she was.

"Hey," she whispered softly, her eyes glazed with sleep, her blonde hair slightly mussed, but still looking as beautiful as she had in his bed just hours ago. "What's wrong?" she murmured, stepping into the hallway, but keeping a hand on the door so as not to let it close and lock her out.

"Nothing's wrong," he replied quietly, placing a hand at the nape of her neck and guiding her lips towards his for a kiss. "Steve just got back to the room, and I figured since I was awake, I'd go watch the sun rise. Join me?" he requested, trailing kisses along the column of her throat. Kelly tilted her head backward to give him better access, and a serene smile played on her lips.

"I'd love to," she beamed. Glancing down at her pajamas, she shrugged. "I guess I should throw my dress back on?"

"You don't have to," he answered. "I just thought we'd take the elevator up to a higher floor. If my room had a balcony, it wouldn't be a big deal."

"My room does," she offered. "But if we go out there, you know there's a chance David or Donna would wake up and notice we were out there."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take," he decided, tracing the curve of her jaw with his finger and feeling her shiver at his touch.

"Okay." She opened the door wider and glanced over at the bed she had been sharing with Donna, who was still sleeping soundly. She grimaced as David's loud snores grew louder, but at least it meant he was also still asleep. She reached back and laced her fingers through Brandon's, and he followed her soundlessly across the room. Kelly pushed the heavy curtain aside, flicked up the lever that kept the sliding glass door locked, and took a deep breath, sliding it open as quietly as she could. It made no sound as she did so, and she exhaled in relief, gesturing to Brandon to step out onto the small balcony. She stepped out after him and slid the door across noiselessly, turning to face him as the cool Nevada autumn air greeted them. His arms were around her in an instant, their lips meeting in a slow, lingering kiss that quickly grew more heated. Brandon's hands skimmed up under the thin silk of her pajama top, caressing the warm flesh of her back as he continued to kiss her.

"I told you I was going to have a hard time keeping my hands off of you," he murmured as they broke apart some moments later.

"Oh, I can tell," she smiled wickedly, her eyes lowered knowingly. He laughed and drew her against him, spinning her around so that her body was flush against his, and he rested his chin on her shoulder as they both gazed out over the Las Vegas Strip. A faint glow was visible off in the distance, the inky black sky slowly fading to a dusky gray, flecks of orange and gold speckling the horizon. They stood in silence, watching the sun rise, and Brandon decided for all his sister's impulsivities, this was one that he was undoubtedly grateful for.

"Ever done it on a balcony overlooking the Vegas Strip?" he whispered, his voice husky, his breath tickling her ear. Kelly shuddered and shifted her body to face him, her hands clasped around his neck.

"No," she replied honestly, "and as much as I want you right now, it's taking all my willpower to remember Donna and David are right inside that door, and I doubt very much I could keep quiet enough not to disturb them."

"Fair enough," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.

"I told Dylan it was over," she said suddenly. Brandon nodded.

"I was wondering what went on when you followed him into his room. It was killing Brenda. She paced for almost an hour, I swear." He paused. "How did he take it?"

"You know Dylan," Kelly replied wryly. "Not exactly an open book to read."

"What did you say, if you don't mind me asking?" He didn't want to seem as if he was prying, but his curiosity as to how Kelly had left things was definitely piqued.

"I was honest," she began. "I told him that seeing other people had left me clear on one thing, that I loved him, but I was no longer _in_ love with him." She took a deep breath and stared into Brandon's eyes.

"And what did he say to that?" Brandon countered, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"He said he hoped I'd find what I was looking for," she whispered. "And I told him I thought that he already had."

"Meaning?"

"Brenda," Kelly said simply. "I think it's inevitable." She trailed her hand up the nape of his neck, fingers weaving through his hair. "But let's not talk about them."

"What should we talk about?" he teased, silencing her before she could answer by covering her mouth with his own, coaxing at her lips with his tongue, encouraging them to part for him. She accepted, and he explored her mouth eagerly.

"That's my favorite kind of talk," she murmured demurely, drawing back from him and staring out into the distance.

"I guess sunrise is officially over," he said, indicating the red-golden orb now fully visible above the horizon and still rising. "We should probably go back inside."

"Yeah, everyone will probably be waking up soon, given we all have to get on a plane in two hours and back to reality."

"Steve might be a problem, given that he got back just a few minutes before I came to get you, and he promptly passed out on the floor." Kelly gasped.

"He did not!"

"He did," Brandon laughed. "He's going to be hurting severely on the flight home."

"Did you ask what he had been doing all night?"

"You don't want to know," he chuckled softly. As he turned to reach for the sliding glass door, Kelly grabbed his arm and planted another intense kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Brandon," she whispered. He stared down at her, puzzled.

"For what?"

"For being you…for taking a chance on us…for…everything," she finished, her smile radiant.

"My pleasure," he murmured, placing one last kiss on her before she slid the door open and peeked inside. She looked at him and nodded, stepping inside quietly, and he did the same. Eyes darting between the sleeping figures in the bed and on the cot, Kelly strode quickly across the room, pausing at the door as Brandon followed to where she stood. "I'll see you downstairs later when we all catch the shuttle to the airport," he whispered, and she nodded in response, opening the door for him. Brandon stepped into the hall, and the door clicked closed behind him. Grin plastered on his face, he strolled to his room and slipped the key into the lock with ease.

"Where have you been?" Brenda demanded the second he walked in. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the brother.

"I went to watch the sun rise. Why?" He looked down at Steve, shaking his head in amusement.

"The sun rise? Are you kidding, Brandon?"

"What does it matter, Bren? I wasn't bothering anyone, and I couldn't get back to sleep after Steve's return."

"Is he even breathing?" Brenda rose up on her knees, craning her neck to glance at Steve, still lying on the floor.

"He's fine," Brandon sighed. "He won't think so when we wake him up in a little bit, but the aftereffects of his partying last night will eventually wear off." Brandon looked over at the clock. "Seeing that it's 6:20 now, everyone better start getting up. We're going to have to catch the shuttle to the airport, the flight we're all booked on leaves at 8:40. Should get us home by 10."

"Why so early?" Brenda lamented. Brandon raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, my dear sister, we kind of didn't have time to really plan much beyond getting to Vegas in time to stop you from making an insane mistake, and this was the only return flight Steve could book for all of us. You're going to have to hope that there are still a few seats open when we get to the airport."

"Yeah, I know," she muttered, knowing Stuart had only gotten them one-way tickets, since they were going to have made the decision about heading back to Beverly Hills and delaying a honeymoon, or flying right on to Cancun, or Antigua or Italy, the three destinations they had previously discussed.

"Steve," Brandon called, nudging at his friend with the toe of his shoe. "C'mon buddy. Rise and shine." Steve grunted and groaned loudly.

"Leave me alone," he slurred. "I jush went to shleep."

"And you're going to have to think about getting up. It's nearly six-thirty, and we've got a plane to catch in two hours." Steve howled in protest, threw off the blanket and stumbled to his feet.

"You should really take a shower, it will wake you up," Brenda suggested helpfully. Steve's red-rimmed eyes swept over her, a look of temporary confusion on his face.

"Thanks, Mom," he replied, staggering towards the bathroom and slamming the door. Minutes later, the toilet flushed and the shower started. Brenda and Brandon exchanged amused glances and began gathering what little possessions they had brought, jamming things into their respective bags.

***

A half-hour later, the entire group was assembled on the sidewalk in front of the Mirage, waiting for the hotel/casino's shuttle bus to arrive.

"What happened to you?" Kelly nodded at Steve, who was sporting his sunglasses now in an obvious attempt to hide his eyes.

"Shut up, Kelly," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Steve had a little too much fun last night," Brandon announced, nudging Steve's shoulder playfully.

"What was her name?" David joked.

"Jack Daniels," Kelly muttered under her breath. Steve snorted.

"Her name was Kiki," he replied with a grin. Kelly raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully.

"That sounds like a stripper's name," Donna mused. Brandon nodded in agreement.

"Bingo, Don," he pointed out. Kelly and Donna both giggled. At that moment, a shuttle glided to a stop beside the curb, and the seven of them began to pile into the bus. Dylan quietly made his way to the back seat, eyes fixed on Kelly as he got settled. Brenda pushed past her brother and made a beeline for the seat next to him.

"How did your talk with Kelly go?" she asked, trying to sound casual. Dylan looked over at her

"I'm not going to talk about it right now, Bren," he replied patiently. "Not the time or the place." His eyes were still focused on Kelly, who was sitting on the far right of the middle row, next to Donna. She hadn't made any effort to make eye contact with him, or with Brenda for that matter, she noticed.

Brenda slumped down in her seat, her irritation at Dylan reignited, and she started out the window, watching the sights of the Strip blur by. She'd be happy to get the hell out of Las Vegas, she decided, and she concluded she'd be in no hurry to come back any time soon.

The ride to the airport was mostly silent, save for Steve's snoring, as he had nodded off almost immediately again, and Kelly and Donna were quietly chatting in the seat in front of Brenda. It was times like this that Brenda was most resentful of Kelly and Donna's close friendship, and why she often felt like a third wheel. The two of them always gravitated towards each other.

So it was a relief when the shuttle pulled up outside McCarren International Airport and everyone made their way into the terminal.

"Guys, wait," Brandon called to Kelly, Donna and David, who were already striding towards the security checkpoint. "Brenda needs to get a ticket."

"Oh, right," Kelly called back. "We'll wait." Brenda sighed and headed towards the counters to try and secure a seat on the flight. She waited impatiently, tapping her foot as the gentleman ahead of her checked bag after bag and chatted amiably with the airline employee.

"Come on, already," Brenda hissed under her breath, any patience she had running thinner. She looked over at her brother and their friends. Brandon was talking with Kelly, Donna and David; Steve was off to one side, sipping from a water bottle he had purchased before they left the hotel, and Dylan was standing apart from the group, hands jammed in his pockets, a distant look on his handsome face. Brenda knew he was probably brooding over whatever he and Kelly had discussed last evening. Kelly, on the other hand, seemed like she didn't have a care in the world as she smiled and laughed with Brandon. Brenda crooked her head and continued to stare at her brother, watching the way he leaned towards Kelly and the way he was looking at her. She shook her head in disbelief. Not possible, she thought. Brandon had made it clear years ago that he saw Kelly as nothing more than a sister, and nothing more had ever transpired between them since that night at the Spring Dance.

"Miss?" Brenda snapped to attention and caught the eye of the woman behind the counter, who was now glaring at her with an annoyed expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, approaching the counter. "I need to get on the 8:40 American flight to LAX." The woman nodded brusquely and turned towards her computer screen, her red-lacquered nails clicking against the keyboard noisily.

"I do have a few seats remaining on that flight. Business-class or coach?"

"Coach," Brenda sighed, remembering the blissful experience that was first-class on the flight out to Vegas. She reached into her purse and withdrew her wallet, inhaling as she pulled out the credit card her father had given her for emergencies. She reasoned that he'd gladly foot the bill for the ticket when he realized she hadn't gone through with the wedding. Or at least, she was trying to look on the bright side. She handed the woman behind the counter her card, and a few moments later, she had a boarding pass in hand and was walking back to join the rest of her friends.

"Ready?" Brandon asked, giving his sister a smile. She managed a half-smile in return.

"Yeah. If I see Vegas again, it will be too soon," she replied dryly.

It was not her day, Brenda decided, as they all passed through security and headed for the gate. She realized her seat was in the very back of the plane, nowhere near the seat of Dylan, who was in an emergency exit row with Kelly and Brandon; Donna, David and Steve in the row directly behind them. She had hoped to nab a seat next to Dylan and coax him into talking on the short flight home.

"Sitting with us commoners this time, huh Steve?" David ribbed.

"I don't care where I sit, as long as I can sleep," Steve drawled.

"You can trade seats with me," Dylan offered, his tone cool. "I'm sure that will make Kelly happier."

"Don't be like that, Dylan," Kelly shook her head. "Things don't have to be icy between us." Brenda listened to the exchange with eagerness; clearly, something had happened last night.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be near you right now," he retorted. Kelly inhaled and briefly closed her eyes.

"That's your choice, then," she replied calmly.

"That's right, it is," he shot back. The bickering was interrupted by an announcement that first and business class customers were now free to board the plane, and formal boarding would begin momentarily, beginning in the rear of the plane. Brenda seized the little time she had left before she had to get on the plane to grab Donna and pull her aside. If Dylan wasn't talking, she figured Donna probably would know what had transpired.

"What's with Dylan and Kelly?" Brenda said in a hoarse whisper. Donna looked over and studied Brenda.

"Kelly ended it with him last night. You couldn't tell?"

"Well, I asked him this morning, and he didn't want to talk about it," Brenda explained. She took a breath. "What did Kelly tell you?"

"Not much," Donna said. "She was tired when she got back to the room, told David and me that she had broken it off with Dylan, and that's really all she said." She paused. "I'm sure you can ask her if you want."

"Not likely, Don," Brenda replied. "I'm probably the whole reason their relationship came to a head last night."

"Don't flatter yourself," Kelly interrupted coolly, suddenly at their sides. "What happened last night was between me and Dylan."

"I just meant…" Brenda began, embarrassed.

"Listen, Brenda, you're still my friend, and I'd like to keep it that way. So please, do me the favor of washing your hands clean of this whole debacle. All your declaration of love did for me was make it perfectly clear that Dylan and I were not meant to be for a number of reasons. Leave it at that. And if you and Dylan are supposed to be together, you will be." Kelly spun on her heel and went back to stand by David and Brandon. Donna gave Brenda a sheepish smile.

"Well, there you have it," she shrugged. "They just announced your row for boarding, by the way." Brenda sighed and picked up her bag.

"Thanks, Donna," she replied, walking towards the gate, giving a quick backward glance at Dylan before the gate agent scanned her boarding pass and waved her on down the gangplank and on board the plane. She was dismayed to find her seat was between a very large, very dirty looking man and a disheveled woman clutching at a crying baby. "Great," she muttered under her breath as she headed towards her seat, grimacing and bracing herself for another miserable hour.

She couldn't wait to get home.

***

Steve was snoring before the flight even left the ground, Brandon noted with amusement. He leaned slightly to his left.

"Dylan doesn't seem too pleased with you this morning," he whispered to Kelly. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows knowingly.

"You think?" she replied in mock surprise, giving him a private smile. "I wonder why."

"You must be a real heartbreaker," he murmured mischievously. "I guess I'd better watch myself." Her eyes sparkled as her smile widened.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," she replied, locking her eyes on his. He reached over and quickly squeezed her knee, careful not to let his hand linger. Dylan was sitting right behind them. He settled back against his seat and closed his eyes. As the plane rumbled down the runway and slowly lifted off into the sky, Brandon silently bid farewell to Las Vegas, content that the city had upheld its end of the bargain to indeed bring him a little bit of luck.

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_**Author's Note: **_I've never actually stayed in the Mirage, so I don't really know which rooms do or do not have balconies, nor am I sure the Mirage even faces the rising sun, but let's assume it does, okay? I've never been up early enough when I'm in Vegas to know!

I actually thought this would be wrapped up by now, but I did remember a subplot that I left hanging (even if you're not aware of it), so I'll try to get that woven into the next chapter. I hate writing broody Dylan (I know, is there any other kind), but hopefully, things will all play out to satisfaction in the end.

Feedback, please?? I've been a good girl this year, and reading and not replying is like getting coal in your stocking!


	16. Family Affair

_**Author's Note: **_Surprised I've got another chapter ready so soon? This chapter was a breeze to write, so hopefully you all enjoy it. I'm surprised at how much I like writing the Walsh family dynamic and the friendship between Kelly and Andrea.

The beauty of writing your own twist on an episode/season/etc. is that you get to play executive producer and writer at the same time, and you can decide how it is the characters might have acted. I know a few of you voiced your disapproval of Brenda's actions in the last chapter, but you have to remember, the Brenda of Season Four did _not_ go running back to Dylan, as Stuart Carson was still in the picture even after the aborted elopement. I wondered how she'd react if it had been a clean break with Stuart _and_ Dylan was also in the clear, and in my opinion, she would have been confused as to why he stopped her wedding, but didn't jump right back to her. I tried to write her honestly as impatient and annoyed, without sliding into whiny, bratty territory, and I also wrote that one little scene between Brenda and Kelly near the end, since it will be important later in the story. I've had this ending planned since I started, so I hope you'll stick around for the journey! Thanks a million for all the feedback, especially the detailed comments…they help me do my very best to keep everyone happy!

And Nikky…you'll never, ever get a D/K fic from this gal. No worries there! ~Court~

**Chapter 16: Family Affair**

"You ready for this?" Brandon threw the car into park and shut off the engine, glancing over at his sister, who was sitting stoically in the passenger seat, her lips set in a thin line, her hands folded in her lap.

"Not really," she admitted quietly. "But maybe the anvil sitting in my stomach will lift after I face them. Dad's car is in the driveway. That's not a good sign."

"They're not going to be thrilled with me, either, Bren. I kept my word to you, if you recall. They got nothing beyond a note saying I was with you, not to worry, and I'd explain everything later." He paused. "I'm sure neither of us coming home last night threw Mom into a frenzied fit."

"I'm surprised we're not listed as missing persons yet," Brenda sighed.

"That takes 48 hours, and only if you're not a consenting adult. No cop would have listened to her," Brandon explained. Brenda snorted.

"That's reassuring" She reached for the door handle and let herself out of the Mustang. "Come on. The executioner is calling." Brandon watched her trudge up the driveway towards the front door of Casa Walsh, and he hopped out of the car, grabbing both their bags as he followed Brenda's path towards the house.

Brandon braced himself as Brenda opened the front door and stepped inside. Neither had fully crossed the threshold of the house before their parents came rushing out of the kitchen, both yelling incoherently as Cindy hugged her children fiercely.

"Slow down, one at a time," Brandon said, his voice muffled from being held so tightly by his mother.

"Where _were_ you?" Cindy cried. "Good Lord, you had me worried sick."

"It's a long story, Mom," Brandon began, cutting his eyes towards Brenda, who was unusually quiet as she avoided both her parents' concerned glares.

"We've got time," Jim said bluntly. "Do you even know how upset your mother was last night?" He crossed his arms, and his gaze darted between his son and daughter. "Your note wasn't exactly comforting, Brandon. Thank God Larry Carson called shortly after I got home from work and reassured us that Brenda was safe with Stuart."

"You knew?" Brenda squeaked meekly. Jim nodded solemnly.

"Once I had spoken with Mr. Carson and he told me Brenda had gone away with Stuart, I got the feeling it wasn't as casual an evening as Larry thought it was. Who goes away on a Tuesday evening?" Brenda averted her gaze guiltily and leaned her head against her mother's shoulder.

"Let's go sit down," Cindy suggested, stroking Brenda's hair. She led Brenda into the living room, Jim at their heels. Brandon hung back, stunned that his parents were being so calm about the whole bizarre situation.

"Brandon, get in here," Jim commanded, his voice firm. Brandon sighed, knowing the scene wasn't going to remain as composed as things currently were.

"So," Jim continued, leaning forward on the armchair, folding his hands together in front of him, "I pieced together my conversation with Larry Carson and Brandon's note, and I began to suspect that you, young lady, had done something foolish."

"Did you know I went to Las Vegas?" she asked quietly.

"Not at first," Cindy replied. "With you gone and with Brandon missing, we started calling your friends, beginning with Kelly. I spoke with Jackie Silver, who told me that she had indeed spoken with Kelly, and that Kelly, Donna and David were going to Las Vegas for the night."

"That's when we knew for sure," Jim piped up, his eyes stern. "And I have to say, in retrospect, I wasn't at all surprised." He sighed and shook his head. "What were you thinking?"

"Dad, I…" Brenda started, but Jim held up a hand and cut her off.

"I'm actually talking to your brother." Brandon looked over at his father in shock.

"Me? You're asking _me_ what _I _was thinking? She ran off to Las Vegas to elope with some guy she'd only been dating for a few months!" He shot an angry look at Brenda, who was coolly avoiding his glowering stare.

"And you knew she was doing it. And you didn't tell us!" Jim shouted. "Brandon, you were foolish to think you could keep something like that from us."

"I gave Brenda my word," Brandon replied firmly. "She asked me not to tell you, and I didn't." He sighed. "That's why I told Kelly, and everyone else, and I didn't tell them _not_ to tell anyone. I actually was hoping someone would get word back to you."

"Why didn't you tell us, Brenda?" Cindy asked gently, taking her daughter's hand in hers. Brenda laughed bitterly and rolled her eyes.

"Like you wouldn't have reacted exactly like this? You would have hit the roof, Mom. And I can't even imagine what Dad would have done." She paused. "I didn't go through with it, obviously."

"And you figured we'd be so relieved we wouldn't be angry?" Jim interjected. Brenda smiled meekly.

"Maybe?" she replied hopefully. Jim shook his head in disbelief.

"I can't believe you thought you were ready for marriage, Brenda. This is exactly the kind of impetuous, childish behavior that should remind you that you may be a legal adult, but you still have a lot of growing up to do." Brenda sighed, prepared for the ensuing lecture, but certainly not in the mood to listen to it.

"You were planning a lovely wedding, Brenda," Cindy countered. "You had just set a date. I guess I still don't understand why you felt the need to run off. You were really going to get married with nothing but a stranger as your witness? That's what is really baffling me," she finished, holding Brenda's hand tighter. Brenda glanced over at Brandon, who was sitting silent, waiting her answer.

"I don't think I knew what I wanted," she confessed softly, her emotions suddenly rising and threatening to overwhelm her. She felt the hot wetness pricking at her eyes, and she blinked in rapid succession to try to contain it. Her efforts were in vain as the tears began to fall freely. Cindy wrapped her arms around her and hugged.

"Oh, honey," she murmured, holding Brenda's shuddering body as she cried. Brandon sighed, shaking his head at the performance he knew Brenda was about to put on. She really was an amazing actress, he noted dryly.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she wailed. "I was so confused, and Stuart made it all sound so wonderful, and the wedding was just getting out of control with Mrs. Carson demanding this and that, and Mr. Carson wanting me to sign a pre-nup, and Stuart convinced me all we needed was the two of us." She sniffled and hiccupped several times, trying to choke back the tears.

"That's fine, Brenda," Jim sighed. "But why didn't you tell anyone?"

"She wasn't going to tell me either," Brandon piped up. "I just happened to stop home while she was waiting for him to pick her up. Thank God I did."

"Yeah, you're quite the hero, Brandon," Brenda retorted through her tears, the two exchanging a glare.

"Knock it off, both of you," Jim warned. He rose from his chair and began to pace in front of the coffee table, his thumb and forefinger on his right hand rubbing together anxiously, as both Brenda and Brandon knew was a nervous habit he resorted to when he was trying to remain calm.

"So what happened in Las Vegas, honey?" Cindy probed. Brenda sat up and wiped at her cheeks.

"We were standing at the altar in a chapel, Mom. I was this close to walking down the aisle," she began dramatically, her two index fingers nearly touching to support her story. "And that's when Brandon and everyone walked in."

"Uh, yeah," Brandon agreed, the events of the previous night still so vivid in his head.

"How did you find her?" Cindy marveled. "I can't imagine tracking down the right chapel was an easy task."

"I didn't find her," he explained. "Dylan did." Brenda's eyes widened. This part of the story was news to her. She hadn't really stopped to think how her friends _had_ tracked her down.

"Dylan!" Jim exclaimed, his voice rising. "How did he know where to look?"

"He said he knew some things about Stuart Carson, and apparently he was able to use that information to figure out where Stuart was most likely staying, which was right on the money, pardon the pun. Once we had figured out Stuart had taken Brenda to Caesar's Palace, Dylan deduced that Stuart would have contacted the nicest chapel within a close proximity to the hotel. And again, he was dead-on."

"I didn't realize Dylan was that familiar with Stuart Carson," Jim said, his brows furrowed in mild confusion. Brandon shrugged.

"He kept saying he knew the real Stuart Carson, and he was pretty emphatic that he wasn't the kind of guy that Brenda should be marrying." Cindy and Jim exchanged an uneasy glance.

"Dylan seems awfully concerned about your well-being," Cindy hedged, looking at Brenda expectantly. Brenda examined a fingernail idly and rolled her eyes dismissively.

"Don't worry, Dad," she directed her comment at Jim. "There's nothing going on with Dylan and me." She kept her tone firm and clear, holding back any emotion from the statement, though she hoped in her heart she had just uttered a big lie.

"I thought Dylan was still seeing Kelly," Cindy said.

"Not anymore," Brenda declared, glancing over at Brandon for any hint of a reaction. Her brother's face remained unchanged, staring down his sister intently.

"Dylan and Kelly broke up in Vegas," Brandon added. "What Brenda has failed to tell you is when we interrupted her wedding, she told Dylan she was still in love with him." Brandon felt Brenda's eyes, like daggers, on him, but he looked back and forth between his parents, waiting for their reactions.

"Oh," Jim said simply. "She did?" He leveled a glance at Brenda, who closed her eyes and exhaled.

"I actually really don't feel like talking about this right now. The wedding is off, Stuart Carson and I are done, and I really would just like to be alone for awhile, if that's okay with all of you." She stood and smoothed out her wrinkled t-shirt. "Starting with getting out of these clothes and taking a shower. I feel disgusting."

"This isn't over, young lady," Jim called after her as she headed towards the stairs. "Your mother and I are going to have to consider what would be an appropriate punishment for your impulsive behavior." Brenda spun on her heel and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Dad, give me a break. I'm 19, and I can make my own decisions."

"You still live in this house, Brenda, and you'll respect the boundaries your mother and I set," Jim ordered.

"Jim, she has a point," Cindy sighed as Brenda bounded up the stairs without another word.

"Dad, part of me thinks Brenda does these things simply to get attention," Brandon spoke up. Jim gave him a withering look.

"Stay out of this, Brandon, if you don't want similar consequences for your participation in this ridiculous debacle."

"Well, then, I'm gonna go take a nap. I didn't sleep much last night, imagine that," he replied, starting for the stairs.

"Brandon?" Cindy called. He turned and looked at his mother, who smiled wanly at him. "Thanks for keeping her from making the biggest mistake of her life."

"No problem, Mom," he answered, leaving his parents behind to further discuss the mess as he walked up the stairs to his room. He heard the shower running as he closed the door and flopped onto his bed, rolling onto his back.

It had been a whirlwind 24 hours, and at the same time, he felt like a week had passed since yesterday morning when the whole crazy fiasco had started.

He shifted onto his side, a smile spreading across his face as his thoughts turned to Kelly Taylor. Again, how much could change in so short a time, he mused to himself. He closed his eyes and conjured up her image, so clear in his mind's eye. She wasn't that far removed from the pretty teenager who had first kissed him at the Spring Dance, and somehow, when she had kissed him yesterday in front of the hotel, she was an entirely different person in his eyes. Somewhere along the line, Kelly Taylor had become everything he had been looking for in a woman.

He drifted off to sleep, Kelly very much on his mind, wondering where this new journey was going to take them, anxious as to when he would be able to hold her again.

***

"I feel like I need a real vacation right now," Donna sighed as Kelly pushed open the door to the beach apartment and they made their way inside, David following with the bags and Donna's suitcase.

"Tell me about it," Kelly agreed, crossing the room to check the answering machine, which was blinking crimson. "That was not the way I imagined seeing Vegas for the first time."

"No kidding," David nodded. "We hardly saw anything." He threw open the refrigerator door, twisted open a bottled water and took a long sip. Kelly pressed the flashing red button on the phone, the monotonous, robotic voice chirping that there were two new messages. All three paused to listen, only to hear a dial tone for the first message, and a telemarketer begin speaking as the second message played. Kelly promptly deleted them and turned away from the phone, which almost immediately began ringing shrilly.

"I'm going to take a shower," Donna announced as Kelly reached for the phone.

"I'll join you," David called playfully, Donna shaking her head with a laugh.

"I'm actually going to change and head over to campus. I've got to check my schedule with Howard and I want to work on some play lists," he explained. Kelly nodded and waved as she answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Kelly, thank God!"

"Andrea!" Kelly replied, surprised to hear from her. "I thought you had class. Isn't that why you didn't come to Vegas with us?" There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "I didn't feel well this morning, though. So I skipped class."

"That's not like you," Kelly replied, fiddling with the antenna of the cordless phone as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "What's up? You don't sound well, actually."

"I know you must have just gotten back, but can we talk? I didn't know who else to call." Kelly frowned, unsettled by her friend's tone.

"Andrea, what's wrong?"

"Could you come by my dorm?"

"Sure," she replied without hesitation. "Just let me change quickly. I'm still wearing the same dress I've had on since yesterday afternoon. I'll be right over, okay?"

"Okay," Andrea replied meekly. Kelly hung up the phone, curiosity piqued and concern high for Andrea. The girl was always so put-together, albeit sometimes anxious, but Kelly had never heard her the way she had just been on the phone. She dashed into her room, made a face at her expression in the mirror, noticing her flat blonde hair and tired eyes, but decided Andrea wouldn't care. She could shower and freshen up later. She pulled off her dress and reached into a drawer for a clean bra and panties, then pulled on a different dress and found a simple pair of shoes, shoving the heels she had worn to Vegas into her closet.

"Don?" She pulled open the bathroom door and stuck her head inside.

"Yeah?" came the reply from behind the shower curtain.

"I'm running over to the dorms. Andrea just called, and she said she needed to talk." Donna's head popped out around the curtain, soap suds clinging to her blonde head.

"Is she okay?" Kelly shrugged.

"She didn't really sound it. I'll let you know. Be back soon, okay?"

"Okay." Kelly closed the door and walked to the kitchen, grabbing her car keys from the hook near the rear door, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

"David?" she called. No answer. He must have left while I was changing, she reasoned, stepping out onto the deck of their apartment and quickly descending to the lot where she kept her car. She slid behind the wheel of the red BMW, turning the key in the ignition as the car purred to life. Throwing it into reverse, she expertly guided it out of its parking spot and drove off in the direction of the California University campus. It was a short drive, and she hummed along with the radio as she drove, pleasantly surprised at how carefree she felt.

She knew Brandon Walsh should get most of the credit for her renewed happiness, but she had expected to feel more ambivalent about Dylan McKay and the finality with which she ended their relationship. She replayed the scene in her head as she steered her car into one of the numerous student lots near the freshmen dorms, fully expecting to explain the breakup to Andrea if she in fact asked about how things went in Vegas.

Kelly parked her car and clicked the remote, the car alarm chirping once to alert her that it was now armed, and she dashed across the lot, fumbling in her purse for her student ID. She located it and slid it through the scanner at the double doors to Andrea's dorm, the light flashing green twice to allow her to open the doors. Even without being a resident, as long as you had a valid student ID, dorms were accessible to any CU student, and Kelly wasn't exactly sure she would have liked that policy if she lived there.

Noticing the elevators were all near the top floors, she turned towards the stairs and opted to climb the three flights to Andrea's floor, walking briskly down the hall until she came to stop in front of her room. Kelly took a breath and knocked lightly, waiting anxiously for Andrea to open the door.

"Kelly, thank you," Andrea hugged her forcefully as she threw open the door. Kelly drew back and held her friend at arm's length. She was wearing her glasses, not the contact lenses she usually sported, and she was still in her pajamas, her hair slightly matted on one side.

"What's wrong?" Kelly asked softly as Andrea ushered her inside the neat dorm room and indicated Kelly have a seat on the unmade bed. Kelly obliged and sat near the bottom, careful to be sure she was sitting on the comforter.

"I…" Andrea began, fiddling with the earpiece of her glasses, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I didn't know who else to call," she said lamely. Kelly reached over and squeezed Andrea's hand lightly.

"Hey, I'm glad you called me," she said sympathetically. "I'm always here for you, Andrea, you know that." She smiled and waited for Andrea to say more.

"I know, and you don't know how much I appreciate it," Andrea smiled gratefully. "And I'm probably jumping to conclusions, but I'm just so worried, Kel."

"Andrea, what is it? I can't help you if you don't tell me," she coaxed gently.

"Okay." Andrea drew a shaky breath, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Dan, the guy you met at Brenda's engagement party…the guy I've been seeing…well, I didn't tell you or Donna or Brenda this yet, but," she lowered her voice, "we've been sleeping together."

"Andrea!" Kelly exclaimed, surprised, but unable to hide her excitement for her friend. :"Wow. That's a huge step!" Andrea nodded.

"I know," she smiled wistfully. "It kind of just happened one night, and it's happened most nights since." Her blush deepened.

"Andrea, it's nothing to be ashamed of. When you're in love, that's what you do," she offered. "We all can't be as principled as Donna, you know." She paused. "So what's the problem?"

"This is where…well, this is where it gets embarrassing," Andrea whispered. She took another breath. "Dan was over last night, and we were…you know," she murmured, and Kelly nodded. "And Kel, the condom broke, but we didn't even realize it til after." Kelly's eyes widened, and she studied Andrea's worried expression.

"Oh," Kelly said quietly. "And you're thinking…" she trailed off, not needing to complete her thought as Andrea's expression confirmed what she was thinking. "Andrea, I know you're probably panicking, but that does happen, and you'd have to be pretty unlucky for one little incident to…"

"Knock me up?" Andrea supplied bluntly. She pushed a curly strand of hair off her forehead and shook her head. "I know, I'm probably jumping to conclusions, but if I did the math right, this week would be midway through my cycle, and that's not helping ease my anxiety." She bit at her lip again, and Kelly noticed she had chewed so hard there was blood visible. "What do I do?"

"I don't know," Kelly admitted, wishing she could ease her friend's worry better. "I don't think there's much you can do but wait, Andrea. I know that's not what you want to hear, and it's pretty much all you'll think about for the next few weeks, but if it helps at all, remember that the odds are in your favor, and think positively." Andrea sighed.

"I know, and I knew there was probably nothing I could do, but I guess I really just needed a shoulder to lean on, to cry on." Kelly smiled.

"Cry away," she offered, both girls laughing. Kelly leaned over and hugged Andrea. "It's going to be okay, Andrea. Don't worry."

"Easy for you to say!"

"Well, how did Dan react when it happened?"

"He kind of just shrugged it off, said not to worry." Andrea frowned. "I suppose that's a pretty typical guy reaction?"

"Probably," Kelly agreed. "They don't always think with the right head, after all." Andrea giggled.

"Since you're here, tell me about what happened last night. How was Vegas? What happened with Brenda?"

"Oh, it was an interesting evening, to say the least," Kelly replied, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

"Did you guys stop Brenda?"

"Yeah, she and Stuart are no more," Kelly nodded. "Stuart Carson was none too happy, especially after Brenda told everyone in the chapel that she still loved Dylan." Andrea gasped.

"No!"

"Yep." Andrea knitted her eyebrows.

"How did Dylan take that? What did _you_ think?"

"I didn't stick around to hear the rest of it," Kelly admitted. "I didn't want to. Last night made me realize that I'm done with the whole Brenda/Dylan thing, and if they're meant to be together, that's what will happen, and I'm just not going to be part of it."

"Are you kidding?" Andrea shook her head. "I mean, I know you and Dylan hadn't exactly been seeing eye to eye recently, and you guys had been dating other people…"

"I was miserable, Andrea. And funny enough, it took Brenda Walsh to make that crystal clear to me." A slow, guarded smile crept onto Kelly's face. "Andrea, can you keep a secret?"

"Of course, if you ask me to," Andrea replied, her head crooked to one side scrutinizing Kelly carefully. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because," Kelly replied matter-of-factly, "I can't help it."

"Kelly," Andrea pressed, "did something else happen in Las Vegas?"

"Maybe," she said slowly, her smile widening.

"Okay, spill already. Who's the reason you're smiling?"

"You have to promise you won't say anything," Kelly warned. Andrea nodded in agreement. "Brandon. Brandon Walsh is the reason I'm smiling."

"Brandon!" Andrea squealed in awe. "Oh my God, Kelly, are you serious?" Kelly's eyes sparkled, and Andrea's mouth dropped open wider. "Oh, my, you _are_ serious. How!? What happened?"

"I can't really explain it," she confessed. "I mean, all of a sudden lately, Brandon and I have grown incredibly close, and when all the fireworks went off in the chapel last night, and I took off, he was the one who found me. And being Brandon, he tried to take care of me, making sure I was okay, and we went for a walk." Kelly paused, closing her eyes and remembering the kiss she had planted on him in the middle of the sidewalk. "And we got to talking, somehow I started rambling about people being meant for each other, and I asked him why he and I never happened."

"You didn't!" Andrea was hanging on every word. Kelly nodded.

"And then I kissed him. And he kissed me back," she murmured, her heart beginning to quicken at the memory.

"And…" Andrea urged, encouraging Kelly to share more of the story, if there was more to share. "You guys didn't…" she hesitated, unsure if she should pry, but the light shade of pink coloring Kelly's cheeks gave her the answer before she asked the question.

"We did," she whispered. "And it was amazing," she sighed blissfully, marveling at the fact she was sharing such an intimate detail with Andrea, a girl who had once herself been interested in Brandon Walsh. "He's amazing," she repeated. Andrea grinned.

"You don't have to tell me twice," she laughed. "I cannot believe you slept with Brandon Walsh!" She frowned. "Why is this a secret? Is it because of Dylan?"

"No," Kelly shook her head vehemently. "It has nothing to do with Dylan. Brandon and I decided that we just didn't want people jumping to conclusions and judging us. What happened was not impetuous, it was not a one-night stand, and we're going to give a relationship a try. And we just don't think most of our friends would get that, given all that went down last night."

"I guess that makes sense," Andrea agreed. "But you've only had a thing for Brandon Walsh since, oh, I don't know, forever!"

"He was worth the wait," she whispered.

"I bet he was," Andrea laughed. The two girls looked at each other and collapsed in a heap of giggles on Andrea's bed.

"See? I've already taken your mind off things, haven't I?" Kelly smiled. Andrea returned the smile appreciatively.

"Yeah, you have, for now," she nodded. "That's not to say as soon as you leave I'm not gonna slip back into panic mode."

"Well, try not to think about it. I imagine that Brenda's going to want to tell you things herself, so don't be surprised if she tries to get us all together at the Pit later today or tomorrow. So let's pretend that our conversation never happened, and you can play dumb when she tells you everything."

"Agreed," Andrea smiled. "Thanks again, Kel."

"Any time, Andrea," she replied as Andrea drew her into another fierce hug.


	17. All That You Can't Leave Behind

**Chapter 17: All That You Can't Leave Behind**

Brenda groaned and shielded her eyes from the bright sun that was cheerfully streaming in the windows of her bedroom. She squinted and stared at the clock, noting with some amusement that it was well after 9 a.m. She listened for a moment, rolling onto her back, and her ears were met with nothing but silence. Her father had most likely left for work, her mother and brother no doubt having headed off to their respective classes at CU. She threw back the sheets and didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about her lack of anything substantial being planned for the day. She was miserable, and it was a perfect excuse to do nothing.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Brenda's feet found the floor, and she stretched lethargically, trying to work the knots out of her back. She began fumbling with the buttons on her pajama top, her fingers working furiously over them as she suddenly wanted nothing more than to stand under the hot spray of the shower and wash all her concerns away.

She shimmied out of the boxer-style shorts and let them pool at her feet, kicking them aside with one swift motion. She walked towards the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain, cranking the faucet to the far left as the water came on in a blast. While waiting for it to reach an appropriately warm temperature, she brushed her teeth and then took a moment to study herself in the mirror. The same familiar face greeted her, and she cocked her head to one side, contemplating what drastic changes she could enact. Bring the backs back…cut off six inches…hell, she even thought about colored-contact lenses for a split second.

The bathroom began to fill with steam, so she reached out with her left palm and rubbed at the mirror, clearing a small oval from the rapidly-forming condensation. She bit her lip and shook her head. She was still the same girl, at least physically, that Dylan had fallen in love with.

Brenda sighed and stepped into the shower, yelping with pain as she realized she had failed to adjust the faucet carefully before getting in. She groped for the dial, twisting it slowly to bring the water to a more comfortable temperature. She turned around and tilted her head backwards, letting the water saturate her hair and trickle down her back. She then lowered her head and reveled in the feel of the hot water pricking at her neck like soothing needles.

As she massaged a generous amount of shampoo into her scalp, she closed her eyes and found her mind wandering to the events of the past 48-hours.

She realized now just how close she had come to marrying Stuart Carson, and in retrospect, she couldn't believe she had actually been standing in a wedding chapel in Las Vegas, ready to pledge her undying love to a man she really didn't know that well, as most of her friends had pointed out to her. She thought about Stuart, and for a moment, she couldn't remember what had attracted her to him in the first place. Then in a flash, the memories washed over her, as well as a striking revelation.

Brenda knew now with absolute clarity that she had never been in love with Stuart Carson. She had liked him a lot, and she had been in love with the _idea_ of him, a guy who could dote on her and completely spoil her and want her happy. A guy who could nudge her over the mountain known as Dylan McKay, who always seemed to be standing in the way of her clear path to happiness.

She wondered, with some degree of bitterness, if she was ever going to completely get over Dylan. She heard his voice echoing in her ears, urging her to be patient, if they were meant to be together, they would be. Somehow, she had a hard time believing that.

She began to rinse her hair, remembering Dylan's own confession that he loved her, but he also loved Kelly. It felt like a cop out to her. It was an easy way for him to not deal with the situation that was right in front of him, and it actually irritated her. Really irritated her.

She then thought about Kelly. Her best friend. The years had drawn a shaky line between them, mostly because of Dylan McKay, but Brenda wanted to believe they still had a friendship worth salvaging. In fact, she had an intense yearning to sit down with Kelly and have a good cry, leaning on her as she did so often in high school. Before Dylan. After yesterday, however, she worried that Kelly might not want to talk to her.

She was frustrated with herself, she thought as she leaned against the tile, the water pulsing at her back again. Her feelings were racing around in her head disjointedly, and she just needed to talk to someone. Anyone.

Sighing, Brenda turned the shower off and reached for her towels, wrapping one snugly around her slender body while she rubbed the other vigorously over her wet head before securing it into a makeshift turban atop her crown. She grabbed a bottle of lotion and applied some generously to her shoulders and legs before dropping the towel and slipping into her bathrobe. She was about to pull the remaining towel from her head to drag a comb through her hair when she heard the doorbell chime. Frowning, she wondered who could be ringing a doorbell this early in the morning, and she deduced it might be the mailman, who was frequently hitting the Walsh house earlier and earlier in his run.

Tightening the sash of her robe and adjusting the towel on her head, she bounded down the stairs and threw the door open, freezing on the spot at the sight that greeted her.

"I thought you said you never wanted to see me again," she narrowed her eyes, placing a hand on one hip as she glared at Stuart Carson.

"I didn't really want to see you, no," he sneered, motioning to a large box at his feet. "But I thought it the gentlemanly thing to do bringing you the things you left in my house."

"How noble of you," she shot back, reaching for the box. She paused, looking up into the eyes of her former fiancé, and she was surprised to see them heavy with regret, or at least, that's what she thought she saw. "Thanks, Stuart," she added softly, sliding the box into the Walsh foyer. An awkward silence followed, and Brenda marveled that the man she had just days ago felt so close to could feel like such a stranger now. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but was unsure of how to start. She braced herself, not certain if he spoke it would be anything she'd want to hear.

"I'd like the ring back," he coughed. Brenda's eyes widened.

"Are you kidding?" she squeaked, appalled at the audacity of his request. Her fingers fiddled with the ring that was still resting on the fourth finger of her left hand, forgotten since the aborted wedding. She hadn't even thought to remove it in spite of everything.

"It wasn't a gift," he continued. "I talked to my dad's lawyer…"

"The same one who drew up the pre-nup?" Brenda spat nastily. She couldn't resist the jab. Stuart glowered at her.

"The one and the same," he smirked. "So I talked with him, and he said that an engagement ring is only a gift if it's given as such on an occasion like a birthday or Christmas or whatever. Otherwise, it's a token of intention, and if that intention is broken, the woman has an obligation to return it." Brenda stared at him, aghast. It all sounded so clinical and legal, which of course, it was, but she couldn't believe that was how he was choosing to phrase it.

"You are truly unbelievable," she whispered, twisting off the ring and holding it away from her body as if it were poison. "I cannot believe that our relationship came to an end…a relationship that was going to lead to marriage, and the first instinct you have is to contact a lawyer about the _ring_?" Brenda shook her head, still stunned by his heartless request.

"You're the one that ended this, Brenda," he sniffed.

"And you're only making it more obvious that I was right to do so," she said quietly. "I didn't care about the ring, Stuart. It's just a ring. I never cared about the money or any of the stuff you threw at me. I cared about you."

"Just not as much as you did Dylan McKay," Stuart retorted. "Tell me, Brenda, all the times you were in my bed, when you were sleeping with me, when I was making love to you, were you imagining being with Dylan?"

"You're disgusting," she hissed, her stomach in knots at the sick accusations he was making. "I'm sorry for how things ended, Stuart, and I'm sorry that you can't be more mature about it. I actually don't think anything I say to you right now is going to matter, so it's probably best that you just leave."

"I have what I came for," he announced, snatching the ring from her palm and closing his fingers over it. "Good luck with McKay," he called over his shoulder as he stepped off the front stoop and walked towards his car. "I imagine you're going to know how it feels to be second best if you go running back to him."

"Go to hell, Stuart," Brenda yelled, slamming the door without another word. Seething, she inhaled deeply and tore the towel from her head, stalking upstairs in anger. She clenched her fists as she reached her bedroom, running her thumb over her now-naked ring finger.

She was never planning on keeping the ring. It was the right thing to do, to return it to Stuart, given how she ended the engagement, but she would have never imagined he'd have come demanding its return so soon. Stuart's callous attitude oozed hurt and betrayal, but it was also only further confirming he was not the man she had thought he was, and not marrying him would be one of the better decisions of her life.

Brenda had just begun pulling a comb through her damp hair when the doorbell sounded again. She threw down the comb in frustration, nausea roiling through her at the thought of Stuart coming back for Round Two. She took a deep breath and descended the stairs again. She opened the front door slowly, praying it wasn't Stuart standing on the doorstep.

"Morning, young lady," the mailman smiled broadly and handed Brenda a stack of mail, held together by a rubber band. He then produced a larger envelope covered in postage and stamped messages and thrust it towards her. "I'm going to need someone to sign for this."

"Okay, I'll sign," she agreed, reaching for the clipboard. She grabbed the pen and scrawled her signature on the indicated line then handed it back to the smiling mailman. She looked down at the envelope in curiosity, recognizing her name in large, looping script above her parents' address.

"Thank you!" He tipped his hat to her. "Have a pleasant day!" Brenda smiled and gave a little wave in return. At least someone was chipper this morning. She returned her gaze to the envelope, her eyes scanning it intently. She sucked in a breath as her heart began to beat a little faster. She swallowed and shaking fingers located the zip tab that secured the registered mailer.

She withdrew the contents of the envelope and began to read.

***

Brandon was glad to get back to his morning routine. After his first class had ended, he had headed right for the campus gym for a quick workout before he would go back to the Student Center to wait for D'Shawn. Or at least to wait for D'Shawn _not_ to show.

He added a few more pounds to the leg press and settled back against the cushioned seat, swinging his legs up onto the machine as he began to raise them slowly. He was on his fourth rep when a soft pair of hands covered his eyes. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of Kelly.

"Guess who?" His heart sank as he recognized the voice.

"Shouldn't you be teaching a class or drafting your latest monogamy theory?" he sighed. The hands lifted away from his eyes, and he twisted his head sideways to meet the eyes of Lucinda Nicholson. A coy smile played on her full red lips as she leaned over the machine.

"Who's been sharing my monogamy theories with you?" she teased, tossing her head lightly as she sat down near the end of the bench nearest to his machine.

"That's all they are, aren't they? Theories. I mean, from what I've heard, you don't even believe in monogamy, do you, Lucinda?" he challenged. He actually wasn't in the mood to deal with her flirtation, as he had a tight window before he was technically due to meet D'Shawn, and suddenly, Kelly was very much on his mind. He didn't need to play games with Lucinda.

"No, I don't," she replied smoothly. "I don't think any of us are conditioned to spend our lives with just one person."

"Is that why you and your husband are separated?" Her eyes narrowed in surprise.

"Who told you that?"

"Just a rumor I heard," he said casually, resuming his reps on the leg press.

"Rumors are nasty little things, aren't they?" she replied brazenly. Brandon sighed inwardly and rolled his eyes tiredly.

"They're not rumors if they're true," he shot back. She smiled again.

"Then I guess this isn't a rumor. Cory and I separated about a month ago," she continued. "Does that make things any easier for you, Brandon?"

"Why would that make things easier for me?" he asked, playing dumb. He knew what she was suggesting, and he was relieved that he felt not an ounce of temptation to ask on her come-ons.

"Oh, you know," she leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Does it make it any easier to go slip into that locker room and have your way with me if I'm not a married woman?" Brandon snorted.

"You're separated, not divorced, so technically, you're still married," he said pointedly. "And besides, I'm not interested."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, pursing her lips.

"Hey, I was hoping I'd find you here," a familiar voice brought a smile to Brandon's face. Kelly walked around from behind the machine and leaned down, greeting him with a kiss that took his breath away. He saw a look of shock cross Lucinda's face as Kelly drew back from him and he took her hand in his.

"Hi," she whispered, giving him a private smile. She turned her attention to Lucinda and her smile widened. "Professor Nicholson, right? I'm Kelly Taylor, I'm in your Women's Studies freshmen seminar."

"Of course," she smiled tightly in response. "I thought you looked familiar." Lucinda gave Brandon a quizzical look. "I thought you said you didn't have a girlfriend."

"I didn't," Brandon replied honestly, hiding a smile. He wasn't used to seeing Lucinda flustered. She rose from the bench and pushed a stray curl that had escaped her ponytail off her forehead.

"I'll leave you to your workout then," she said sharply, stalking off towards the double doors. Brandon exhaled and swung his legs off the machine, rising to stand before Kelly. He gave a quick glance around the gym, and Kelly immediately shook her head playfully.

"I already surveyed the scene, we're safe," she grinned. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her towards him.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you," he breathed, lowering his lips to hers. She giggled as he captured her mouth, her fingernails gently raking at the nape of his neck.

"Mmm," she murmured, drawing back from him, her eyes sparkling. "I'm glad I took a chance and passed through here on my way to class. What was Professor Nicholson talking to you about?"

"Ah," Brandon began, unsure whether or not he should tell her the whole story. "She's been working out here most of the same mornings I do. We got to talking one day, and she's been friendly ever since."

"Friendly?" Kelly gave him a knowing look. "The way she was looking at you was a bit more than friendly. Which is why I so nobly came to your rescue," she added.

"Remind me to thank you again later," he whispered, placing a quick kiss on her lips.

"You do have that irresistible charm about you," she giggled. "I guess I should start heading to class."

"You don't have time to find somewhere quiet where we can be alone?" he said, disappointed. The girl was like an addiction that he suddenly could not get enough of. Kelly pursed her lips teasingly.

"I thought you were supposed to be a good influence on me," she joked. "But I might be persuaded to be a little late to class," she challenged, her voice sultry. Brandon groaned with desire and kissed her again. He knew he was treading in dangerous territory, being the only kind of strenuous activity he was dressed for was his workout, and pretty soon his lust for Kelly was going to be very evident.

"We should really go somewhere," he urged her quietly between kisses. Kelly raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"Got any ideas?" He began to think when suddenly Kelly's eyes lit up.

"What's with the smile?"

"Andrea," she whispered, grinning. Brandon gave her a puzzled glance.

"Andrea?"

"I had to tell her about us yesterday. She had asked me to come by her dorm room not long after we got back from Vegas. Girl talk," she added quickly before he could question her further.

"You told her about us?" he asked, surprised. She nodded. "How did she react?"

"She was thrilled for us," she smiled. "So I'm thinking if she has class, she won't mind us…uh…using her room for a bit?"

"I don't know, Kel," he shook his head. "That might actually be a little weird." He definitely wanted Kelly, badly, at the moment, but the thought of getting intimate with her in Andrea's room…most likely on Andrea's bed…was too disconcerting to pursue. She bit her lip.

"You're probably right," she sighed. "I guess I wasn't thinking." She swatted at him playfully. "See what you do to me?"

"And even though I know he's most likely not going to show, I'm supposed to meet D'Shawn for tutoring," he added.

"Do-gooder," she flashed him a smile. "Well, I guess I'll just go to class." She crooked her head at him. "Will I see you later?"

"I hope so," he whispered, kissing her passionately. "Not sure how, but we'll find a way, right?"

"Right," she agreed. "Bye, Brandon." She dragged her thumb across his lower lip, rubbing away a trace of her lipstick from his mouth, gave him one last smile and walked towards the exit of the gym. He took a deep breath as he watched her go and then grabbed his towel from the back of the machine and jogged towards the locker room.

As he showered and changed, he considered what Kelly had said, that she had told Andrea about what had transpired between the two of them. It seemed fitting that she was the first to know, he thought with a smile, remembering the brief rivalry that Kelly and Andrea had had in high school, at his expense, which slowly gave way to a budding friendship between the girls. He and Andrea had never worked, but he also knew she was still fiercely loyal to him, and her approval would have meant a lot to Kelly.

Now, he thought with a grimace as he slipped on his regular shoes and zipped his gym bag closed, telling the rest of the group would most likely not be as easy.

***

Brenda sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee that she had reheated from the morning pot her mother had brewed for her father. She set down the mug and drummed her fingers against the table, staring at the letter for the twentieth time since she had opened it an hour earlier.

She picked up the crisp paper between her fingers, her eyes sweeping over the dramatic letterhead again. She took a breath and scanned the letter again. Her sight focused on the words she had read that would change her life, if she let them.

"_Dear Ms. Walsh,_

_Thank you for your interest in the Royal Academy of the Dramatic Arts. We are delighted to inform you that you have been granted an audition for consideration into the BA in Acting programme for the next semester year. Our records indicate that you requested your audition to be held in London, and your appointment has been set for December 4__th__. You are required to make all personal arrangements, and you should be prepared to remain in London should a subsequent recall be extended. If you are not granted a recall audition, please be advised you may not apply again until the next academic year._

_All candidates to the BA in Acting programme must come to auditions prepared with two pieces of their own choosing, neither of which may be longer than __**three**__ minutes. One piece must be a monologue from a Shakespearean play or another Elizabethan/Jacobean playwright, and the other piece must be a monologue from a modern playwright. Only one of the pieces may directly address the audience. Candidates should also prepare an alternative classical piece, which may or may not be called upon for recitation at audition._

The letter continued with more logistics and recommendations, but it was all becoming a blur the more she read it. Brenda shook her head in awe. She never in her wildest dreams thought she would actually be granted an audition when she secretly applied at the end of the summer. It was more on a whim she had done it; at the time, she was getting ready to leave for the University of Minnesota, and she couldn't have imagined that wouldn't have worked out. She didn't consider back then what she'd do if she actually _got in_.

She wasn't in yet, she knew that. Fact was, all that was guaranteed to her was an audition. Just 34 students were admitted to the program each September, and she also knew that the ones who did the best in the audition phases were also accompanied by personal recommendation. She didn't really know anyone who would give her the kind of glowing reviews that could nudge her ahead of other qualified candidates.

And of course, there was the simple matter of even getting to London to audition.

But the complete 180 her life had taken in the past two days certainly made the possibility of pursuing an education in London all the more enticing.

"Hi, honey!" Cindy smiled brightly as she entered the kitchen from the back door. She set down her purse and a large textbook and walked over, kissing her daughter's head. Her eyes wandered down to the table in front of Brenda. "What's that?"

"Oh, nothing, really," she said dismissively, turning the letter over. Cindy raised an eyebrow and sat down next to Brenda.

"Brenda?" she pressed gently.

"It's nothing, Mom. I'm not even sure what to make of it," she replied, chewing on her lower lip. Cindy reached across the table and patted Brenda's hand reassuringly.

"If you'd tell me, I can try to help," she smiled. Brenda returned the smile. Her mother always meant well.

"Okay, read for yourself." She slid the paper towards her mom, and Cindy picked up the paper and began to read, her eyes widening as they passed over the same words Brenda had been reading and rereading for the better part of the hour. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and a look that could only be described as a mix of shock and pride crossed her face.

"Brenda!" she exclaimed, setting the paper down and gazing at her daughter. "This is…"

"I know," Brenda nodded, taking back the paper and sighing. "It's surprising."

"It's amazing!" her mother beamed. "When did you even apply to the Royal Academy? When you started talking about it after you got back from Minnesota, your father and I assumed it was something you had thought about pursuing next year!"

"I sent off my application two days before I left for Minnesota," she replied quietly. "It was really just a "do it so I can't look back and say I never tried" thing, really. I was pretty convinced that A) I'd be happy in Minnesota, and B) I'd never even get an audition." She took a breath and shook her head. "If I had serious thought about it, I probably would have requested an audition in New York."

"You can do that?" Cindy asked incredulously. Brenda nodded.

"Yeah, they're only held in March though. The England auditions run for the duration of the fall and winter terms, and I figured I needed a wider window of opportunity, and that in itself would be a pipe dream." She laughed. "I still can't believe I was given an audition."

"You should be very proud, honey," Cindy beamed. "It sounds like you must have wowed them on paper."

"That's what I can't figure out, Mom," Brenda confessed. "My credentials aren't that wonderful. I've barely done any theater since that stretch in high school. I mean, I was throwing around the idea of registering at CU for the Spring semester, and hopefully getting a role in whatever they produce for that term, but…" she trailed off, still somewhat in shock.

"Well, perhaps they're more lenient with the auditions than you considered," her mother suggested. "Maybe they figure the best candidates really emerge once they're on a stage."

"I guess," Brenda agreed, sipping her coffee, which had gone tepid again.

"You know what I think?" Cindy smiled, leaning forward.

"What?"

"I think this is a fortuitous moment for you, young lady. It's like fate intervening, this letter arriving right after your plans for your future changed so dramatically."

"You mean Stuart," she replied flatly. Cindy nodded.

"Yes, I do. Two days ago you were planning a wedding, not even sure you were going to re-enroll in college. Today, you're holding a letter from the Royal Academy of the Dramatic Arts. In _London_," she emphasized. "God, your grandmother would be so proud," she smiled wistfully.

"Speaking of Stuart," Brenda began with a scowl, "he paid me a little visit today." Her mother's eyes widened in astonishment.

"He did?"

"Oh yeah, he did," she nodded glumly. "He had a box of my stuff that I had left in his room at his parents' house. Stupid random things, like a toothbrush, some CDs, a pair of slippers." She shook her head. "The box was just a cover for his ulterior motive."

"Which was?" Cindy hedged.

"He wanted the ring back," she replied matter-of-factly.

"He asked you for the ring back?" her mother gasped. "That's…" she sputtered.

"Apparently, he consulted his lawyer, and I had a legal obligation to give it back." She sniffed. "I don't care. I didn't want it. It was a reminder of something that came too close to actually happening."

"The nerve of that boy!" Cindy huffed. "Well, I say good riddance to bad eggs."

"He fails to realize his behavior only makes me feel more confident that I did the right thing," she said.

"It's like I said, Brenda, this letter is a sign!"

"Mom, you do realize this only gives me an audition, and it's not a cheap process. Applicants are responsible for their own expenses up to and through acceptance into the program. That's when talk about financial aid and sponsorship starts." She sighed. "My audition is three weeks from now."

"You've been saving the money you've made working for your father," Cindy pointed out. "And your father and I still have the money set aside that would have paid your tuition through this school year. It's a decent little chunk, being we were anticipating out-of-state rates as well as room and board." She stroked Brenda's hand reassuringly. "We'll have to sit down with your father, but I can't see that if this is something you truly want why we can't make it work."

"Thanks, Mom," she whispered. The words of reassurance should have lifted her spirits, but she was surprised that she had such feelings of mixed emotions swirling within her at the moment. It was a lot to contemplate.

"We can chat with your father tonight, if you'd like. Wait until he hears this! Wait until Brandon finds out! Oh, honey, this is so exciting!" She leaned over and enveloped Brenda in a tight hug.

"Thanks, Mom," she echoed once more. She wasn't stunned by her mom's reaction; Cindy Walsh had always championed both her children and everything they did, whether it was running for class president or getting a Girl Scout badge, and everything she and Brandon did was equally wonderful in her mother's eyes. But a niggling voice reminded her things might just have been easier if her news had been met with less enthusiasm.

Was London a chance she was ready to take?

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_**Author's Note: **_Guess you'll have to wait and find out what Brenda's going to do! And the best wait to encourage me to make the wait less is to review, review, review.

But hint, hint…absence supposedly makes the heart grow fonder, no?

Happy New Year everyone. ~Court~


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